THE 


LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS: 


aiii  ?t}i6tortraI  laomanrc, 


ILLISTRATING 


SOME  OF  THE  PUBLIC    EVENTS,  AND  DOMESTIC 
AND  ECCLESIASTICAL  MANNERS, 


OF    THE 


FIFTEENTH  AND  SIXTEENTH  CENTURIES. 

A.- 


Alas  !   the  Family's 
Extinguish'd  in  Jiim,  and  the  good  old  Name 
Only  to  be  remember'd  on  a  tomb  stone  ! 
A  Name  that  has  gone  down  from  sire  to  son 
So  many  generations  ! 

SOUTHEY. 


LONDOxN: 
SMITH,  ELDER,  AND  CO.,  CORNHILL. 

1829. 


LONDON: 

Printed  by  Anne  Maurice,  Fcncluircli  street. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOUnABLE 

GEORGE    WILLIAM    FINCH    HATTON, 

EARL  OF  WINCHILSEA  AND  NOTTINGHAM, 
_  VISCOUNT  MAIDSTONE, 

[f^  &c.  &c.  &c. 

.    ^.0  AS   A   LINEAL   DESCENDANT    OF   SIR    THOMAS    MOYLE^ 

THE  LAST  PROTECTOR 
OF 
THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS, 
vy  AND  POSSESSOR  OF  THE  MANOR  OF  EASTWELL, 

TO  WHICH  HE  RETIRED, 

THIS  NAllRATIVE 

IS  MOST  RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED. 


"^ 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE    HETREAT    OP    A    COUNTRY    ANTIQUARY. 

He  took  a  journey,  being  accompanied  by  a  countryman  and  companion  of 
his  own  College,  and  both  on  foot ;  which  was  then  either  more  in  fashion,  or 
their  want  of  money  or  humility  made  it  so. 

IzAAK  Walton's  Life  of  Hookkr. 

He  learned  that  these  uncommonly  scarce  and  precious  volumes,  belonged 
to  an  Ancient  Geutleman,  whose  name  was  studiously  concealed ;  but  who  was 
in  the  habit  of  coming  once  or  twice  a  week, — to  smoke  his  pipe  and  lounge 
over  his  books  ;  sometimes  making  extracts  from  them,  and  sometimes  mak- 
ing observations  in  the  margin  with  a  pencil. 

Dibdin's  Bibliomania. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  one  of  those  long  and 
delicious  summer  days,  which  the  pious  George 
Herbert  has  exquisitely  called  "  the  bridal  of  the 
earth  and  sky,"  that  two  personages  of  clerical 
appearance,  who  seemed  to  have  attained  the  mid- 
dle period  of  life,  presented  themselves  at  the  little 
Inn  adjoining  the  village  of  Eastwell,  in  the  fair 
County  of  Kent.  A  small  leathern  wallet  buckled 
on  the  back  of  one,  and  the  dusty  habiliments  of 
both,  indicated  them  to  be  of  that  order  of  gentle- 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

men-travellers,  or  strollers,  which, — because  it 
sometimes  includes  both  patricians  and  plebeians, — 
is  expressed,  in  modern  phraseology,  by  the  epithet 
of  pedestrian.  In  fact,  they  were  two  Graduates  of 
a  certain  famous  College  on  the  banks  of  the  Cam  ; 
who,  rejoiced  to  escape  from  poring  over  anti- 
quated authors  in  their  own  apartments,  and  listen- 
ing day  after  day  to  the  classical  standing-jokes 
of  the  Combination-room,  were  profiting  by  the 
long-vacaticm  to  renew  their  acquaintance  with 
modern  life  and  nature,  amidst  the  delightful  sce- 
nery with  which  the  above-named  County  is  well 
known  to  abound. 

The  keen  air  of  the  downs,  and  their  long  ramble, 
had  the  usual  effect  upon  the  Pedestrians,  of  sharp- 
ening their  appetites  and  elevating  their  spirits. 
With  minds  open  to  all  the  impressions  of  the  beau- 
tiful country  through  which  they  were  travelling, 
they  had  been  occupied  by  an  interchange  of  thoughts, 
tastes,  and  feelings  ;  discussing,  perhaps,  some  of 
the  great  political  topics  which  at  this  time  engaged 
the  public  attention  ;  or,  it  may  be,  in  accordance 
with  their  own  ordinary  habits,  debating,  in  scholar- 
like terms,  some  abstruse  and  knotty  subject,  which 
had  often  bewildered  the  schoolmen  of  past  ages. 
At  length,  when  with  exhausted  lungs  and  parched 
throats  they  had  settled   these  points  to  their  mu- 


INTRODUCTION.  vil 


tual  satisfaction,  they  were  hardly  less  pleased  to 
find  themselves  close  upon  a  long  straggling  tene- 
ment, before  which,  swinging  from  the  branch  of 
an  old  tree,  and  flapping  in  the  wind,  was  sus- 
pended a  sign,  exhibiting  the  goodly  portraiture 
of  the  First  King  George ;  who  was  then  but  re- 
cently elevated  to  maintain  the  Protestant  ascen- 
dancy, and  be  at  the  same  time  the  Patron-saint  of 
all  the  best  liquors  of  the  nation. 

The  serenity  of  the  evening  had  summoned  into 
the  open  air  all  the  male  population  of  the  place, 
and  groups  of  the  younger  villagers  were  to  be 
seen  engaged  in  their  sports  on  the  common  hard 
by  ;  whilst,  on  benches  at  the  Ale-house  door,  the 
rustic  grey-beards  were  seated  in  solemn  divan, 
arranging  their  own  and  their  neighbours'  con- 
cerns, with  all  the  vehemence  and  hilarity  inspired 
by  a  foaming  tankard  ;  the  potency  of  which,  in 
those  good  old  times,  was  measured,  rather  by  the 
liberality  of  mine  host,  than  by  the  gauge  of  a 
cellar-inquisitor.  All  these  were  auspicious  omens 
for  the  Hostel ;  for  merry  faces  at  the  door  of  your 
Inn,  are  fully  as  attractive  to  weary  way-farers, 
and  not  half  so  deceiving,  as  the  ancient  ivy-bush 
of  your  vintner,  and  his  own  protest  touching  the 
surpassing  quality  of  his  liquors.  Within  the 
precincts  of  Alma-Mater,  the  two  Graduates  would 


vni  INTIIODUCTION. 

probably  have  shrunken  from  the  contamination  of 
such  a  place  of  public  resort; — but  rambling,  as 
they  were,  for  health  and  pleasure  in  a  remote  dis- 
trict, with  no  observant  eye  watching  them,  they  felt 
themselves  free  to  follow  their  own  fancies ;  and 
without  hesitation  approached  the  humble  roof 
which  offered  them  refreshment.  The  distance 
to  the  next  town  was  so  considerable,  that  it 
was  scarcely  a  matter  of  choice  which  determined 
them  to  take  up  their  abode  here  for  the  night, 
if  they  could  meet  with  the  requisite  accommo- 
dation :  and,  their  enquiries  proving  satisfactory, 
they  were  ushered  into  a  clean  sanded  little  par- 
lour by  the  portly  dame  of  the  house,  who,  with 
civil  welcome,  received  them  and  their  orders,  and 
prepared  with  alacrity  to  provide  for  their  enter- 
tainment. 

As  they  wished  for  somewhat  more  privacy  than 
this  room  afforded,  comnuinicating,  as  it  did,  by 
a  low  bowed-window  with  the  enclosed  spot, 
whereon  the  peasants  were  assembled,  they  en- 
quired of  their  Hostess  whether  they  could  not  be 
indulged  with  a  more  retired  apartment. 

"  Truly,  my  masters,"  replied  she,  "  our  house 
is  but  small,  and  not  fit  for  gentlefolks,  for  the 
most  ot  our  customers  be  of  our  own  neighbour- 
hood ;    and   they  are  content  with   our    poor  ac- 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

commodations.  And  indeed  this  is  the  only  room 
we  have  for  visitors,  except  the  kitchen  ;  whicli  is 
quite  full  already."" 

"  We  are  somewhat  fatigued,"  said  the  elder  of 
her  two  guests,  "  and  are  not  so  anxious  about  the 
accommodation,  provided  the  place  be  quiet :  have 
not  you  a  room  above  stairs,  now,  where  we  may 
be  free  from  the  smoking  and  drinking  of  your 
friends  close  by  this  window  ?" 

"  Why  as  for  their  smoking  and  talking,  good 
Sir,"  answered  the  Landlady,  *'  it's  bad  enow  to  you, 
I  dare  say,  and  we  shall  have,  I  trow,  rather  a  noisy 
time  of  it  this  evening: — for  the  weekly  club  will 
be  held  to-night,  and  it's  expected  to  be  a  full 
meeting  of  the  members,  to  settle  their  quarterly 
accounts; — but  it's  mortal  unfortunate  we  should 
be  thus  straitened  to  lotlge  your  honours." 

The  modern  "  Elinor  Rumming"  now  looked 
earnestly  at  the  gentlemen,  and  seeing  nothing 
in  their  persons  or  manners  displeasing,  stated, 
though  with  some  hesitation,  that  to  be  sure  there 
was  another  apartment  in  her  house ;  over  which, 
through  the  absence  of  one  who  usually  occupied 
it,  she  had  a  discretionary  control.  She  then  re- 
lated to  them,  that  for  several  years  past,  the  Inn 
had  been  frequented  by  an  elderly  person  who 
roamed   about  the  countrv  visitinfjc  ancient  build- 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

ings  and  churches  ;  and   whose  chief  occupation 
appeared  to  be  that  of  copying  old  monuniental- 
insci'iptions,  and  forming  a  general  collection  of 
whatever  appeared  to  be  antique  and  interesting. 
He  was  also  in  the  habit  of  brino-in''-  home  such  of 
these  rarities   as  he  could  honestly   carry  away, 
and  of  leaving  them  under  her  care ; — till  the  old 
rubbish,  as  she  termed   it,   had  so   accumulated, 
that  it's  removal  would  now  be  attended  with  con- 
siderable inconvenience  to  him.     She  had  there- 
fore appropriated    the    room  above-mentioned    to 
his  sole  use  ; — and,  being  a  quiet  inoffensive  man, 
paying  readily  for  all  he  wanted,  he  was  evident- 
ly  considered,   notwithstanding  his  eccentricities, 
to  be  no  unacceptable   inmate.      She  stated  him 
to  be  a  prodigy  of  learning,  and  therefore  con- 
cluded he  had  once  been  a  schoolmaster ;  whilst 
his  predilection   for  churches  and  burial-grounds 
was,  in  her  womanish  reason,  to  be  attributed  only  to 
the  loss  of  some  beloved  object  in  early  life,  which 
had  given  to  his  pursuits  their  melancholy  charac- 
ter.    She  concluded  by  observing  that,  as  her  pre- 
sent visitors  had  the  appearance  of  being  clergy- 
men, she  ran  no  great  risk  in  yielding  up  to  them 
for  the  evening  the  use  of  "  the  Old  Gentleman's 
Room  ;""  professing  herself  satisfied  that  her  confi- 
dence would   not   be  al)used,   bv   the   subtraction 


INTRODUCTIQN.  XI 

or  disturbance  of  any  of  the  curiosities  it  con- 
tained ;  and  she  accordingly  offered  this  improve- 
ment of  their  accommodation. 

Her  guests  having  thankfully  accepted  of  it, 
the  Landlady  conducted  them  through  her  spa- 
cious kitchen  ;  and,  opening  a  small  door  directly 
communicating  with  a  steep  ladder-like  staircase, 
she  ascended  to  a  long  passage,  terminating  in 
the  Antiquary's  Apartment;  into  which  having 
ushered  her  visitants,  and  silently  enjoyed  for 
a  moment  their  expressions  of  surprise,  she 
withdrew. 

Upon  examining  the  chamber,  they  found  it  to 
be  a  room  of  some  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  square, 
having  a  low  ceiling,  and  being  indifferently  con- 
structed for  receiving  the  light,  by  means  of  a  very 
small  latticed  window  ;  of  which,  however,  near- 
ly all  the  original  panes  had  been  exchanged  for 
odd  pieces  of  stained  glass  of  numerous  shapes  and 
colours.  In  one  place  appeared  a  portion  of  some 
ancient  armorial-bearing,  and  in  another  a  jagged 
fragment  of  an  old  painted  Cathedral-window, 
with  the  disjointed  reliiiue  of  a  Saintly  effigy,  or 
scroll  with  a  godly  I..atin  text  in  black-letter : — 
some  parts  of  these  overlaid  the  others,  or,  in  lui- 
skilful  arrangement,  were  connected  with  heavy 
leaden  frames,  through  which  the  rays  of  the  sun 


Xll  INTRODUCTION. 

Struggled  in  vain  to  penetrate.  A  round  oaken 
table,  which  perchance  had  in  by-gone  times  often 
groaned  under  the  wooden  trenchers  of  serving- 
men,  and  witnessed  many  a  mighty  operation  of 
spoon,  knife,  and  tankard,  stood  now  oppressed  with 
a  tolerably  heavy  weight  of  another  description  of 
things ;  which  the  tooth  of  Time,  although  he  is 
notoriously  known  as  the  insatiate  Edax  Rerum, 
had  in  vain  attempted  to  consume.  A  small  portion 
of  the  board  was,  however,  cleared,  and  near  it  was 
placed  a  high-backed  carved  chair,  which,  in  it's 
days  of  youth  and  cleanliness,  might  have  been  ho- 
noured by  our  Maiden  Queen's  noon-day  siestas  ; 
or,  as  would  rather  be  conjectured  from  it's  present 
smoked  and  tarnished  splendours,  had  once  been 
fumigated  by  the  fragrant  vapours  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh's  Virginian  narcotic.  Here,  then,  as  it 
appeared,  the  usual  occupant  of  the  room  was 
wont  to  revel  in  his  antiquarian  treasures;  and 
seated  by  his  motley-coloured  window,  enjoyed  it's 
"  dim  religious  light,"  in  poring  over  and  decy- 
phering  many  a  fragment  of  the  ancient  lore  of 
England. 

A  copy  of  that  very  rare  and  famous  translation 
of  the  entire  Scriptures,  undauntedly  set  forth  by 
Miles  Coverdale  at  Zurich  in  1530,  which  had 
escaped  the  prohibitions  of  Chancellor  More  and 


INTRODUCTION.  xiii 

the  fires  of  Cheapside  or  Smithfield,  wherein  the 
spirits  of  the  Reformers  who  translated  it,  had, 
"  in    fiery  chariots,"  ascended   to  Heaven, — here 
lay  enshrined  in   oaken    boards,    thickly  studded 
with  brass;    designed  as   it   were,   like  the  well- 
nailed  portal  of  some  rich  old  mansion,  to  secure 
from  profane  hands  the    treasures  which    it  con- 
tained.    The  religious  feelings  of  the  Collegians 
were,  however,  still  farther  gratified,   by  observ- 
ing, as  they  turned  over  the  leaves  and  read  the 
pencilled  remarks  in  the  margins,  that  it's  owner 
appeared  to  understand  and  appreciate  it's  value, 
more  truly  than  the  fashionable  bibliomaniacs  of 
later  times  are  wont  to  do  : — and   that  he  loved 
and  revered  the  doctrines  which   it  taught,  even 
beyond   the  extreme  rarity  of   the    edition  itself. 
A   small  recess  in  the   wainscot  contained  a   few 
other  choice  black-letter  tomes,  of  high   value  in 
the  present  day,  pre-eminent  wherein  were  the  ex- 
cellent old  Perambulation  of  Kent^  by  the  learned 
William  Lambard,  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales, 
Editio  Princeps,  by  Caxton,  and  the  Chronicles 
of  Holinshed,  edition  of  1587,  having  all  the  can- 
celled passages;   together  with  sundry   fragments 
of  books  of  devotion,  old  broadsides,  ballads,  and 
parchment  deeds  witii  large  round  seals  attached 
to  them  ; — but   these  were  secured   by  an   outer 


XIV  INTllODUCTIOX. 

door  of  lattice-work  from  the  approach  of  all  un- 
privileged curiosity. 

A  massive  beam  of  carved  oak  stretched  across 
the  ceiling,  from  which  was  suspended  a  pair  of 
boots  of  some  old  Cavalier,  the  solid  weight  of 
which  was  no  doubt  intended  to  keep  him  firm 
in  his  saddle  against  every  round-head  opponent ; 
and  ranged  along  the  walls  on  the  sides  of  the 
room,  were  to  be  seen  battered  pieces  of  mail, 
cuirasses,  helmets,  arrows,  cross-bows,  and  rusty 
swords;  which  long  surviving  the  gallant  spirits 
who  had  borne  them,  were  now  placed  upon  a  kind 
of  peace-establishment  to  be  terminated  only  by 
their  own  annihilation.  There  were  likewise  some 
weapons  of  a  different  kind,  such  as  the  amiable 
old  Izaak  Walton,  the  gentlest  and  most  humane 
of  all  the  "  Brothers  of  the  Angle,"  might  have 
used  when  he  took  the  water,  and  waged  war  upon 
the  finny  inhabitants  of  the  silvery  deeps.  Pieces 
of  ))roken  images  and  marble  sculptures,  were  also 
fixed  along  the  sides  of  the  chamber ;  and  here  and 
there  might  be  found  a  little  old  box,  containing 
coins,  stones,  and  various  other  small  curiosities, 
which  some  connoisseurs  value  far  more  highly, 
than  did  even  the  ages  when  they  were  best  known, 
or  when  they  were  accepted  as  current  money. 

The  Travellers  were  much  amused  with  examin- 


INTllOBUCTIOiV.  XV 

ing  these  antiquarian  treasures ;  but  that  which 
princij)ally  arrested  their  attention,  was  a  portfolio, 
in  which  were  deposited  drawings  of  various  mo- 
numents and  ecclesiastical  reliques  of  the  neigh- 
bouring country.  It  contained  also  several  views 
of  the  adjoining  Church  of  Eastwell,  one  of  which, 
judging  from  the  care  displayed  in  it's  execution, 
seemed  to  be  highly  valued  by  the  possessor.  It  re- 
presented the  tomb  of  a  Richard  Plaktagenet, 
in  Eastwell  Church;  by  which  the  visitors  were 
so  much  attracted,  tliat  they  determined  to  see 
it  before  they  left  this  part  of  the  country. 

They  rose  the  next  morning  with  recruited 
strength  and  spirits,  but  the  old  Antiquary  had- 
not  returned,  to  give  them  the  opportunity  of 
cultivating  his  acquaintance :  though  they  pic- 
tured to  themselves  the  discovery  of  another  Elias 
Ashmole  or  Tom  Hearne,  and  would  have  been 
delighted  to  have  carried  to  their  College,  some 
account  of  his  learning  and  pursuits  from  their 
own  personal  observation. 

Having  determined  on  visiting  Eastwell  Church, 
they  procured  from  the  Hostess  a  little  informa- 
tion concerning  the  adjacent  country,  and  learned 
that  about  two  miles  from  her  Inn,  some  windmills 
would  appear  on  the  right,  near  which  a  lane 
would  bring  them  on  to  a  lea,  and  a  second  lane 


XVI  INTRODUCTION. 

upon  the  left,  conduct  them  to  Eastwell  Park,  the 
stately  seat  of  the  Earls  of  Winchilsea.  The 
two  friends,  however,  were  less  desirous  of  looking 
upon  scenes  of  splendour,  than  of  searching  after 
wild  and  romantic  solitudes ;  and  the  country 
lanes,  which  they  speedily  entered,  grew  by  de- 
grees as  narrow  and  rugged  as  they  could  well 
desire.  The  last  avenue  wound  abruptl}'  down  a 
hill,  being  enclosed  on  each  side  by  tall  hedges, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  untouched  by  the 
hand  of  man  for  at  least  a  century  ;  from  the  top 
of  which  might  be  seen  the  trees  of  Eastwell  Park, 
gilded  by  the  morning  svm,  and  rising  above  each 
other  in  graceful  gradations  ;  the  whole  being  by 
the  distance  so  harmonised  to  the  eye,  as  to  appear 
like  a  series  of  moss-covered  hills.  Towards  the 
end  of  the  lane,  the  ground  again  began  to  rise, 
and  the  Travellers  passed  through  a  natural  ar- 
cade formed  by  the  entwining  branches  of  aged 
trees  ;  the  roots  of  which  were  stripped  of  their 
original  covering,  by  time  and  the  numerous 
footsteps  continually  going  over  them.  Passing 
through  the  several  flocks  of  sheep  and  herds  of 
deer,  which  were  peacefully  feeding  side  by  side 
upon  the  rich  pasturage  of  Eastwell  Park,  a  path 
leading  to  the  right  conducted  them  to  a  little 
knot  of  trees,  concealing  the  lowly  but  venerable 


INTRODUCTION.  XVll 

Chvirch  ;  the  grey  stone  walls  of  which  bore  in- 
dubitable signs  of  having  withstood  the  shock  of 
many  centuries. 

The  plain  simplicity  of  one  part  of  the  building, 
and  the  elaborate  skill  exerted  upon  others,  soon 
made  the  visitors  desirous  of  seeing  the  interior ; 
and,  in  the  words  of  Hervey,  "  the  doors,  like  the 
Heaven  to  which  they  lead,  stood  invitingly  open." 
The  next  moment  they  trod  it's  tiled  floor,  and 
looked  upon  the  sculptured  marble  effigies  designed 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  great  of  other 
days.  Two  of  these,  of  considerable  magnitude, 
rested  side  by  side  on  a  rich  monument ;  and  near 
them,  supporting  part  of  the  wooden  chancel- 
screen,  appeared  the  tomb  of  the  Moyle  family, 
for  which  Eastwell  Palace  was  first  erected.  Op- 
posite to  them  was  raised  the  stone  bust  of  Sir 
Heneage  Finch,  sometime  Recorder  of  London, 
and  ancestor  of  the  Earls  of  Winchilsea  and  Not- 
tingham, in  the  professional  costume  of  his  day, 
and  the  Avell-known  pointed  beard  of  the  time  of 
Cliarles  I. 

Against  the  wall  in  the  chancel  behind  this 
effigy,  appeared  a  small  white-washed  and  unor- 
namented  recess,  containing  the  monument  of 
Richard  Plantagenet,  supposed  to  have  been 
the  last  direct  male  descendant  of  his  royal  House, 


XVlll  INTllODUOTION. 

and  the  natural  son  of  the  unfortunate  Richard 
III.  The  tomb,  tliough  formed  of  stone,  is  now 
so  dilapidated  and  decayed,  that  it  might  almost 
appear  to  have  been  once  enclosed  in  something 
richer,  and  more  substantial  and  appropriate  to 
the  remains  of  a  descendant  of  royalty.  The  slab 
which  covers  it,  was  at  one  time  inlaid  with  figures 
of  metal,  the  forms  of  which  are  still  to  be  imper- 
fectly traced,  one  appearing  to  have  been  in  the 
attitude  of  prayer ;  of  the  metal  itself,  however, 
only  a  very  small  portion  is  left. 

But  though  this  sepulchre  has  been  despoiled  of 
all  notice  of  the  trust  consigned  to  it,  the  ancient 
Register  of  Eastwell  Church  long  recorded  that,  in 

the  year  1550,  "  3Iljjc!jarlr  ^lantagcuft  tuas  burjitti 

t!)C  XXi\  JjagC  of  iDcsembcr;"  in  which  ancient  memo- 
rial, also,  a  peculiar  mark  is  attached  to  the  name  of 
every  person  of  noble  blood,  his  being  the  first  so 
distinguished,  the  character  being  also  crossed  by 
a  straight  line,  which  has  been  interpreted  to  ex- 
press the  heraldical  baton  of  bastardy.  The  only 
otlier  reli({ues  which  the  pilgrims  to  Eastwell  found 
of  this  most  interesting  personage,  were  the  ruins 
of  a  building  in  the  park,  said  to  have  formed  part 
of  the  house  he  erected,  and  a  well  near  it,  called 
"  Plantagenet''s  AVell ;"  after  which  researches  they 
retui-ned  to  their  Inn,  resumed  their  journey,  and 


INTIIODUCTION.  XIX 

for  a  while  thought  no  more  of  the  Antiquary  or 
his  favourite  hero. 

Several  years  passed  away,  before  the  two  Divines 
were  again  led,  either  by  their  occupations  or  plea- 
sure, to  revisit  this    part    of   the  country.     But, 
however,  as  Time  often  makes   up  for  his  delays 
by  suddenly  bringing  about  the  most  unexpected 
coincidences,  it  oddly  eno^igh  came  to  pass  that  one 
of  the  Travellers  was  at  length  preferred  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  the  Parish  of  Eastwell,  and  with  his  friend 
came  to  take  possession  of  his  benefice.     The  same 
smiling  aspect  of  country  which  they  enjoyed  toge- 
ther before,  every-where  invited  them  to  a  renewal 
of  tlieir  acquaintance  with  it ;  but  Time  had  been 
busy  in  his  operations,  and,  either  with  a  leaden 
foot  for  the  wretched,  or  a  swift,  though  noiseless, 
one  for  the  gay,  had  overtaken  many  in  the  race 
of   life,    and  gathered    them    unto    the   vmiversal 
bourne. 

The  two  friends  had  often  since  conversed  toge- 
ther in  their  College-apartments,  about  the  adven- 
ture of  the  evening  which  they  passed  at  the  little 
Inn  ;  and,  upon  their  return  to  the  neighbourhood, 
it  was  almost  their  first  object  to  visit  the  Land- 
lady, and  enquire  after  the  Anticpiary.  But  he, 
who  had  rescued  so  many  reliques  from  Time,  had 
at  length  bowed  himself  before  the  universal  de- 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

stroyer.  Plis  old  protectress,  however,  was  still 
living,  as  bustling  and  good-humoured  as  before; 
and,  in  compensation  for  the  few  wrinkles  which 
came  over  her  brow  as  the  legacy  of  years,  the  same 
finger  of  age  which  had  stamped  them  there,  had 
graced  her  complexion  with  a  little  of  that  jocund 
ruddiness,  which  is  not  at  all  unusual  in  the  face  of 
a  Taverner  :  she  was  also  still  very  talkative,  and 
entertained  them  with  many  anecdotes  of  the  eccen- 
tricities of  her  old  inmate.  His  "  ruling  passion" 
had  been  "strong  in  death,*"  and  his  last  request  was, 
that  he  might  be  buried  near  the  Plantagenet-monu- 
ment  at  Eastwell,  in  a  coffin  made  of  the  shelves 
which  had  held  his  treasures ;  and  that  the  service 
over  his  remains,  should  be  read  from  his  ancient 
black-letter  Common  Prayer  and  Bible,  which  he 
bequeathed  for  the  purpose  to  the  officiating  Mi- 
nister. His  wishes  on  this  point  were  punctually 
performed ;  and  as  many  of  the  neighbours,  who 
respected  and  loved  him  for  his  amiable  qualities, 
were  anxious  at  his  decease  to  possess  some  memo- 
rial of  the  man,  his  collections  were  thus  in  a  short 
time  entirely  dispersed. 

The  Landlady  had  however  retained  a  box  of 
his  papers,  which  were  sent  to  the  Rectory  for  an 
evening's  inspection ;  and  the  Reader  Avill  judge 
with  what  surprise  they  discovered  in  it  an  old 


INTRODUCTION.  XXI 

vellum  manuscript,  which,  on  opening,  was  found 
to  be  entitled 

cf 

WixilUn  lig  I)g$  otonc  jjanlie. 

The  character  of  the  volume  was  a  fair  small 
running-hand  of  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of 
Edward  VI.,  to  which  period  several  circum- 
stances in  the  narrative  also  referred  it.  The  spell- 
ing was  about  as  uncouth  as  that  used  by  Leland, 
but  the  language  was  considerably  less  formal,  and 
something  like  the  florid  style  of  the  old  English 
Chronicles,  to  which  the  Author  might  have  been 
accustomed  in  his  youth.  Added  to  this,  he 
seemed  so  evidently  to  have  felt  the  scenes  which 
he  recorded,  by  his  vivid  and  dramatic  descriptions 
of  them,  that  he  appeared  to  live  over  again  as 
he  related  his  own  story  ;  and,  as  he  says  in  the 
commencement  of  it,  he  gave  to  them  a  vivid  por- 
traiture, that  posterity  might  regard  his  pages,  as 
the  true  and  lively  similitude  of  the  interesting 
matters  which  he  had  witnessed.  Such  is  an  ac- 
count of  the  narrative  now  published,  which  ap- 
pears to  be  thus  eminently  qualified  for  illustrating 


xxii  ixthoductiok. 

the  manners  and  events  of  the  period  to  which  it 
relates, — from  1485  to  about  1549, — but  it  lias 
been  entirely  revised  in  it''s  orthography,  and  occa- 
sionally modernised  in  style  by  the  Editor ;  who 
has,  however,  preserved  the  original  divisions  of 
the  narrative  by  marking  them  as  chapters,  and 
giving  to  them  titles  and  mottos  descriptive  of  their 
contents.  He  has  also  added  a  few  Historical  and 
Explanatory  Notes,  in  the  execution  of  all  which, 
he  has  received  considerable  assistance  from  the 
kindness  and  experience  of  an  antiquarian  friend. 

Independently  of  the  very  remarkable  support 
which  this  volume  gives  to  modern  historical  re- 
searches, the  actvial  subject  of  it  is  still  more  cu- 
rious and  interesting ;  since  it  purports  to  be  the 
original  autobiography  of  an  illustrious  personage 
who  has  been  neglected  by  the  national  Historians, 
and  who  is  known  to  have  lived  only  by  tradition 
and  the  mysterious  entry  in  the  Register  of  East- 
well.  It  will  be  remembered  that  King  Rich- 
ard III.  had  one  natural  son  named  John  of  Glou- 
cester, whom  he  made  Captain  of  Calais,  styling 
him  in  his  Patent  "  our  beloved  bastard  ;"  but  it 
was  not  until  the  year  I72O  supposed  that  he  had 
also  another  son,  Richard,  who  was  brought  up  in 
obscurity,  acknowledged  by  his  royal  father  only 
the  night  before  the  battle  of   IJosworth-field,  and 


IKTKODUCTION'.  XXlll 

who  survived  until  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  when  he 
was  upwards  of  eighty  years  of  age.  This  interest- 
ing information  was  first  communicated  by  Heneage 
Finch,  fourth  Earl  of  Winchilsea,  to  Dr.  Brett,  who 
sent  it  in  a  letter  to  Peck  the  Antiquary,  by  whom 
it  was  printed  in  liis  Desiderata  Curlosa.  It  had, 
however,  probably  some  traditional  errors,  of  which 
this  manuscript  makes  no  mention  ;  such  as  King- 
Richard  being  decorated  with  a  star  and  garter, 
though  few  persons  can  forget  that  Ashmolc  states, 
that  the  star  was  added  to  the  Order  by  Charles  I., 
nearly  a  century  and  a  half  afterwards.  It  may  be 
remarked  in  passing,  that  it  was  from  Dr.  Brett's 
account,  that  Ricliard  Hull  the  Actor  composed  his 
well-known  legendary  tale  of  Richard  Planta- 
genet,  in  plaintive  ballad-measure. 

But  not  to  keep  the  reader  from  the  narrative 
itself  with  antiquarian  discussions,  it  may  be  re- 
marked, that  the  fortunes  of  Plantao-enet  beino- 
blighted  on  the  death  of  his  father,  after  many  ad- 
ventures, he  finally  became  a  builder,  and  was  em- 
ployed as  such  in  the  erection  of  Eastwell  Palace, 
wlien  he  discovered  himself  to  Sir  Thomas  Movie  ; 
who,  in  1546,  gave  him  ground  in  his  park  to  build 
himself  the  cottage  in  Avhich  he  afterwards  resided. 
Botli  the  opening  and  conclusion  of  his  story,  state 
that  it  was  written  in  this  retreat,  and  he  appears, 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION. 

from  the  following  pages,  to  have  enjoyed  that  re- 
tirement with  all  the  placid  dignity  of  Milton's 
pensive  man,  who  wished  that  he  might  in  his 


weary  age, 


Find  out  some  peaceful  heniiitage." 

And  when  he  speaks  of  the  events  of  his  past  life, 
it  is  in  a  calm  and  happy  strain,  not  unlike  that 
uttered  by  one  of  the  best  and  most  exalted  of  our 
living  Poets,  with  whose  beautiful  words  this  Intro- 
duction shall  be  terminated. 

"  It  is  pleasant  then  to  sit  and  talk 
Of  days  that  are  no  more, 
When  in  his  own  dear  home 
The  traveller  rests  at  last, 
And  tells  how  often  in  his  wanderings 
The  thought  of  those  far  off 
Hath  made  his  eyes  o'erfiow 
With  no  unmanly  tears  ; 
Delighted  he  recalls 
Through  what  fair  scenes  his  lingering  feet  have  trod  ; 
But  ever,  when  he  tells  of  perils  past. 

And  troubles,  now  no  more, 
His  ej'es  most  sparkle,  and  a  readier  joy 
Flows  thankful  from  his  heart." 


THE  LAST 


OF    THE 


PLANTAGENETS 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  LEAF  FROM  THE  VOLUME  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

The  great  increase  of  Religious  Houses  very  much  Increased  tlie  number 
of  Seminaries  of  learning,  as  there  was  a  School  more  or  less  famous  in  every 
Convent. — Many  persons  of  rank  and  fortune  were  educated  in  these  Con- 
ventual Schools. 

Henry's  History  op  Great  Bkitain. 

Well,  by  his  visage,  you  might  know 
He  was  a  stalworth  Knight  and  keen, 
And  had  in  many  a  battle  been  ; 

♦  »  *  »  * 

His  eyebrow  dark,  and  eye  of  fire, 
Shew'd  spirit  proud  and  prompt  to  ire  ; 
Vet  lines  of  thouglit  upon  his  cheek, 
Did  deep  design  and  counsel  speak. 

Scott's  Mak.mion. 

Finding  myself.  Our  Lord  be  thanked,  in  most 
goodly  estate  and  comfort,  after  many  rude  tempests 
overpast  ;  gladdened  by  the  fair  resting-place  now 
given   to  me   on  earth,  and  full  merry  in  the  hope  of 

B 


2  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

Heaven, — I,  Riciiaui)  Plantagenict,  would  tain  em- 
ploy my  latter  days  in  recording  the  events  of  those 
which  have  long  since  passed  away,  into  the  great  sea 
whicli  Time  is  ever  rapidly  rolling  onward  to 
Eternity. 

And  this  will  I  do,  in  the  strength  of  God,  without 
fear  or  favour,  or  unmeet  inclining  to  either  hand  :  So 
that  they  whose  eyes  shall  look  upon  this  narrative, 
when  mine  shall  be  closed  for  ever,  may  assuredly  re- 
gard it  as  the  true  and  lively  similitude  of  those 
things  belonging  unto  the  story  of  my  strange  and 
troubled,  though  inglorious,  life.  For,  since  the  next 
race  may  perchance  desire  to  know  what  the  past 
hath  been,  and  seeing  that  old  age  loveth  to  discourse 
of  it's  youth-hood,  I  have,  as  it  were,  delineated  the 
scenes  wherein  I  have  acted,  in  vivid  portraiture,  as 
they  even  yet  remain  impressed  upon  my  memory  ; 
and  have  here  set  down  the  speech,  the  semblance,  and 
the  very  habits,  of  those  with  whom  I  conversed, 
who  "were  honourable  in  their  generations,"  but 
who  now  exist  no  longer.  This,  therefore,  have  I 
done  to  the  extent  of  my  j)oor  skill,  though,  as  one 
saith, 

"  I  must  write  plain,  colours  I  have  none  to  paint;"* 

but  Avould  I  not.  because  I  am  now  fallen  into  years, 
idly  bask   me  in  the  warm  sunshine  which  is  to  me 


*  Prologue  to  Cavendish's  Poetical  History  of  the  Cardinal 
of  York. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  3 

fast  setting,  but  still  assay  wljat  remaineth  to  me  of 
wit  and  vigour,  to  '•  do  that  which  my  hand  yet 
findeth  to  perform,"  and  with  all  my  little  power,  as 
'monisheth  the  holy  text ;  for,  in  truth  I  am  now 
"  going  unto  the  dead,  who  have  neither  work, 
counsel,  knowledge,  nor  wisdom."  Nor  do  I  forget, 
also,  what  that  very  learned  Knight,  Sir  Thomas 
More, — albeit  for  divers  reasons  I  like  not  his  memory, 
— hath  so  wittily  said  on  the  importance  of  engaging 
us  in  such  employment  as  we  are  best  able  to  en- 
counter, in  those  choice  moral  verses  wliich  he  writ  in 

his  youth : — 

"  Wyse  men  alway 
Affyrme  and  say 

That  best  is  for  a  man, 
Dylygently 
For  to  apply 

The  business  that  he  can." 
As  to  my  story,  sorrows  have  been  mine,  such  as 
those  of  the  common  sort,  with  whom  it  was  my  lot 
often  to  sojourn,  do  rarely  know;  but  to  these  bright 
liopes  and  joyous  thoughts  have  at  length  succeeded. 
For  I  have  found,  that  of  a  truth  sadness  and  merri- 
ment do  in  this  world  evermore  follow  each  othei-,  as 
the  day  doth  the  night,  himself  anon  to  be  pursued 
and  eftsoons  overtaken. 

I  was  yet  in  my  green  years,  nothing  improving 
to-day,  and  nothing  recollecting  of  yesterday,  though 
ever  vainly  anxious  about  to-morrow,  wlien  I  re- 
member me  being  one  of  the   Pupils   who  were   in- 


4  THE    LAST    OK    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

structecl  with  the  six  Novices  in  the  IMonastery  of  St. 
Mary,  in  the  Isle  of  Ely  ;  what  time  that  godly  man, 
Roger  Walkelyn  of  Westminster,  was  Prior  thereof. 
It  so  chanced  that  my  fellows  went  to  their  homes 
about  the  merry  Feast  of  St.  John,  when  the  sun  shines 
fiercest  and  fairest,  the  skies  be  brightest,  the  birds 
blithest,  and  the  fields  and  flowers  look  tlie  loveliest 
and  greenest.  Much  did  I  repine  at  their  going  to  their 
fond  friends  and  tender  parents  whilst  I  was  still  left 
with  Father  Austin,  the  venerable  and  learned  JNIaster 
of  the  Novices,  who  still  continued  to  instruct  me  in 
fair  and  beautiful  writing,  with  enlumining  of  manu- 
scripts; in  the  Grammar  of  Donatus,  the  Logic  and 
Philosophy  of  Aristoteles,  and  the  plain-song  of  our 
Church-service,  with  the  art  of  playing  it  upon  the 
deep-toned  organ.  As  it  is  but  all  too  likely,  that  in 
the  strange  convulsions  of  our  later  time  this  scene 
of  my  youth  may  full  soon  be  despoiled  and  ruined, 
I  cannot  here  omit  to  set  down  that  the  school  of  Ely 
IMonastery  was  a  fair  wainscoted  room,  near  the 
Treasury  in  the  Western  cloister ;  having  an  oaken 
stall,  curiously  carved,  for  our  preceptor,  and  desks 
and  forms  stretching  all  across  the  room  for  his  pu- 
pils. In  divers  other  carres  or  square  pews,  also,  in 
the  cloister,  were  chained  sundry  parchment  books, 
fairly  copied  in  our  Scriplormm,  or  Writing-chamber, 
wherein  the  Novices  and  Students  might  read  a  good 
plain  lesson  of  godliness,  or  of  hbnest  human  wisdom: 
such  being  the  divine  Psalter,  the  Proverbia  of  Sal o- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS.  O 

mon,  the  subtle  histoi'ies  and  fables  of  the  witty 
-/Esopiis,  the  Prumpluarium  Parvulorum,  the  Moral 
Sayings  of  Calo,  Le  Chastiement  d'un  Pere,  and  the 
like.  Howbeit,  unto  my  youth  solitude  was  sadness  : 
much  did  I  miss  my  companions  at  the  permitted 
hours  of  morning  and  evening  disport,  and  much  did 
I  wonder  why  none  should  be  left  but  myself;  and 
then  did  I  begin  to  enquire  who  or  what  Avere  my 
parents,  and  to  ask  divers  questions  touching  their 
estate  and  existence. 

Still  was  I  pursuing  this  course  of  life,  when  one 
day, — which  I  well   remember   me   was  the  13th   of 
the  Calends  of  September,  which  is  to  say  St.  Bernard's 
day,  the  20th  of  August,  in  the  Year  of  our  Redemp- 
tion 1485,  soon  after  the  hour  of  Prime,  about  seven 
in  the  morning ; — it  was  then,   I   say,    that  Father 
Austin  summoned  me  to  attend  the  Lord  Prior  in  the 
Loctdorium,  or  Parlour  ;    which  Avas   the  more  to  be 
noted,  as  visitors   were  not  lightly   permitted  to  see 
the  Students  or  Novices  until  after  the  procession  at 
Nones,  or  about  four   in  the  afternoon.     On  entering 
I  found  him  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with  a 
Stranger,  who  appeared  from  his  habit  to  be  a  gallant 
soldier ;  for  he  was  attired  most  bravely  as  it  seemed 
unto  me,  poor  Avight,  who  had  never  beheld  courtiers 
or  men  of  Avar  before.     He  was  a  tall  and  stout  per- 
sonage, of  bold,  but  friendly  features,  embrowned  by 
sun   and   storm,    Avhose    crisped  and    iron-grey   hair 
curled   closely  about    h'u   forehead,   contrary  to   the 


6  THE    LAST    or    THK    I'l.ANTAGENETS. 

general,  tliough  womanish  custom  of  my  younger 
days.  The  lower  parts  of  his  dress  also  seemed  as 
though  he  scorned  the  fantastic  habits  of  his  age ; 
since  they  were  formed  only  of  tight  blue  hose,  hav- 
ing gefioui/licres,  or  knee-pieces,  of  bright  steel  ar- 
mour, partly  gilt  and  ornamented  with  rich  chasings. 
He  wore,  likewise,  sollcrds,  or  polished  iron  shoes, 
to  which  were  affixed  costly  gilded  spurs  witli  lai-ge 
rowels,  indicating  him  to  be  a  Knight,  fastened  to  his 
feet  by  blue  leathers.  I  might  well  note  also,  that  he 
did  not  wear  the  broad  trunk-hose,  nor  the  unwieldy 
stuffed  and  padded  doublets  which  the  ever-ready 
flattery  of  courtiers  hath  since  brought  into  so  great 
fashion  ;* — but  the  rest  of  his  raiment  was  almost  en- 
tirely hidden  by  a  blue  surcoat,  covered  with  golden 
studs,  in  front  of  which  an  embroidered  belt  sustained 
a  ponderous  sword  and  dagger  in  azure  scabbards. 
His  fljit  cap  and  feather  of  purple  velvet  and  gold,  he 
had  doffed  out  of  reverence  to  our  Prior,  with  whose 
unadorned  black  Benedictine  cowl  and  scapulary,  the 
gallant  habit  of  the  Knight  was  strikingly  contrasted. 
But  albeit  outward  things  wrought  not  greatly  upon 


*  This  passage  alludes  to  the  custom  which  prevailed  when 
Ileniy  VIII.  began  to  increase  in  size,  of  the  apjjearance  of 
stoutness  being  adopted  by  almost  all  classes  of  the  people ; 
every  part  of  the  male  dress  being  stufied  with  bombast,  or 
cotton-wool,  to  imitate  the  bulk  of  the  Sovereign,  especially 
in  the  shoulders  and  trunk-hose. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    I'LANTAGENETS.  7 

the  mind  of  the  venenible  Roger  Walkelyn,  it  seemed 
to  me  as  if  he  held  his  guest  in  great  honour  ;  for 
though  the  day  was  yet  so  young,  and  it  wanted  full 
four  hours  of  dinner,  there  stood  upon  the  table  beside 
him,  a  silver-gilded  cup  of  Rochelle  wine,  a  loaf  of 
the  Prior's  own  white  wassell-bread,  and  a  fair  dish  of 
stewed  eels,  for  which  the  JMonastery  of  Ely  had  long 
been  famous. 

As  I  entered  the  Parlour,  habited  in  the  coarse  black 
frock  and  skin  boots  provided  for  the  Students  and 
Novices  of  our  House,  the  Stranger  attentively  fixed 
his  eyes  upon  me,  and  said  "  I  trow.  Lord  Prior,  that 
the  object  of  my  journey  now  stands  before  me : 
thanks  to  your  hospitality  and  the  good  fisli  of  the 
Ouse,  I  have  well  fed,  drunk,  and  rested ;  but  as  you 
wot  that  time  presses,  if  it  so  pleased  you  I  would 
that  he  eftsoons  made   him   ready  to  depart.     And 

touching "  their   conversation   here    sank  into    a 

whisper,  and  after  continuing  for  a  short  space,  I  was 
ordered  to  put  on  my  hood,  and  was  consigned  to  the 
Kniglit,  who  willed  me  to  attend  him  to  the  outer  gate 
of  the  IMonastery,  where  a  stout  Servitor,  dressed  in 
a  blue  livery  and  partly  armed  in  bright  iron,  was 
waiting  witli  horses  for  our  conveyance.  ]\Iy  con- 
ductor lightly  vaulted  upon  one,  with  an  agility 
which  greatly  excited  my  admiration,  saying  to  his 
follower,  "  Take  the  stripling  to  you,  Bernard  :"  upon 
which  he  seized  me  by  the  arm  with  the  grasp  of  a 
giant,  and  swung  me  from  the  ground  into  the  saddle 


8  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

of  a  palfrey  beside  him,  which  he  led  by  the  bridle- 
rein. 

It  was  almost  high  noon,  and  we  had  proceeded  at 
a  round  pace  upon  our  journey, — mine  eyes  having 
been  long  diverted  by  gazing  on  the  country  through 
which  we  passed,  for  my  visits  beyond  the  bounds  of 
the  iVIonastery  had  been  full  rare  and  very  brief, — it 
was  I  say,  nearly  noon,  ere  I  ventured  to  express  any 
curiosity  as  to  the  end  of  our  journey  ;  but  there  was 
a  moody  silence  about  my  guides  which  I  vainly 
sought  to  remove.  When  I  asked  whither  we  were 
going,  the  Yeoman  hastily  pointed  to  a  town  with 
divers  spires  as  of  a  Cathedral,  at  some  distance, 
which  he  seemed  anxious  to  reach.  I  trusted  that 
our  arrival  there  would  clear  up  the  mystery,  but  in 
this  was  I  disappointed  ;  for  when  we  got  thither,  at 
the  hour  of  Seocfs  or  noon-prayers,  we  took  a  short, 
though  substantial  refection,  during  which  the  Knight 
never  left  me,  and  speedily  afterwards  we  again  set 
forward.  As  we  were  re-mounting  our  horses,  I 
learned  from  divers  peasants  who  were  loitering  about 
the  hostel  door,  that  the  town  we  were  then  quitting 
was  Peterborough,  famous  for  it's  ancient  and  stately 
Abbey  dedicated  to  the  Blessed  Apostle.  Whether  it 
were  the  reverence  in  which  I  appeared  to  hold  my 
knightly  conductor,  or  the  ready  obedience  which  I 
paid  to  his  commands,  had  won  upon  the  sternness  of 
the  soldier,  and  had  awakened  the  good-humour  of 
the  man,  or  whether  he  really  compassionated  my  anx- 


THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGKNETS.  9 

iety  and  alarm — I  know  not ;  but  certain  it  was  that 
after  passing  beyond  the  fore-named  town,  he  caused 
me  to  ride  near  him  and  became  more  free  of  speech. 

"  Come,  stripling,"  said  he,  "  cheer  thee  up  a  short 
while  longer,  for  our  journey  extendeth  yet  to  Lei- 
cester, now  nearly  some  forty  miles  farther ;  and  then 
you  shall  have  that  rest  and  food,  which  a  day's  hard 
riding  renders  meet  for  such  home-keeping  youths  as 
thou  art." 

"  Thanks,  Sir  Knight,"  answered  I,  "  but  may  I 
crave  of  you  wherefore  I  am  carried  thither  ?  until 
this  day  have  I  been  ever  dwelling  in  Ely  iMonastery, 
even  from  my  childhood  ;  and  in  our  Lord  Prior  and 
the  venerable  Friar  Austin,  my  preceptor,  I  have 
found  the  only  semblance  of  father  or  kinsman  it  hath 
been  my  lot  to  know.  Are  then  my  own  fond  pa- 
rents in  Leicester  ?  or  do  there  dwell  the  kind  rela- 
tions, of  whom  until  now  I  have  been  all  imwitting  ? 
Say  but  aye,  my  honourable  guide,  and  my  overjoyed 
heart  shall  sustain  my  wearied  limbs,  and  the  fatigue 
whicli  oppresseth  them  shall  be  recked  no  longer." 

"  A  passing  fair-spoken  youth,  as  I'm  a  soldier," 
exclaimed  the  Knight  to  himself;  and  then  added 
aloud,  "  say'st  thou  so,  my  boy,  then  by  Our  Lady  of 
Walsingham,  all  your  hopes  shall  full  soon  be  grati- 
fied. Be  it  known  to  thee,  then,  youth,  that  thy  fa- 
ther is  one,   miscalled  as  he  may  be,   who  hath  ever 

loved  thee,  and Tush !"  cried   he   suddenly,   his 

voice  faltering,  and    his    whole   frame   appearing    to 


10  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

labour  under  sonic  inward  emotion  or  restraint,  as  he 
added  "  Ask  mc  no  fartlier,  boy ;  but  let  us  put  tor- 
ward  to  Leicester:  anon  thy  desire  may  be  satisfied  to 
the  full." 

Yet  whilst  lie  was  thus  reluctant  to  communicate 
to  me  any  information,  touching  that  subject  which 
of  all  others  I  most  desired  to  know,  my  knightly 
guide  was  no  longer  unwilling  to  enter  into  ordinary 
discourse  with  me.     He  spake,  soldier-like  and  wise- 
ly,  upon  the   then  troublous   state  of  the  realm   of 
England ;  and  told  me  how  the  royal  Richard  Plan- 
tagenet  had  marched  from  his  Court  at  Nottingham 
Castle  to  the  town  of  Leicester,  with  a  full  gallant 
army  of  some  12,000  men,  to  oppose  the  rebel,  Harry 
Tudor, — so  he  named  him, — Earl  of  Richmond,  who 
had  landed  at  IMilford  Haven  on  the  (ith  day  of  that 
Scime  August,  with  2000  soldiers,  which  he  had  been 
daily  augmenting  to  assist  in  his  most  traitorous  claim 
upon  the  crown.     Notwithstanding  the  utter  strange- 
ness of  these  martial  histories  to  my  ears, — which  had 
been  accustomed  to  little  more  than  prayers,  anthems, 
and  masses, — I  listened  to  them  with  wondrous  delight, 
and  they  seemed  to  stir  within  me  like  the  swell  of  a 
trumpet,  as  with  such  like  discourses  my  conductor 
beguiled  the  weariness  of  our  journey. 

It  was  drawing  towards  the  evening  of  the  second 
day  after  we  left  Ely,  that  I  perceived  the  slanting 
rays  of  the  sun  gilding  the  ancient  spires  of  Leicester 
Abbey,  and  St.  Mary's  Church.     It  was  the  Festival 


(I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  ]  1 

of  Bishop  Augustine,  being  the  21st  day  of  August, 
and  the  tAvelf'th  Sunday  after  the  Feast  of  the  Holy 
Trinity  ;  and  even  now,  in  the  ver}^  winter  of  my  life, 
the  recollection  of  that  most  memorable  evening  is 
depicted  upon  my  soul  with  more  than  the  vivid 
freshness  of  yesterday.  Unlike  the  holy  silence  or 
pious  joy  which  that  sacred  season  ever  witnessed  in 
the  cloisters  of  Ely,  all  in  Leicester  town  was  noise, 
tumult,  and  confusion;  from  the  mustering  and  march- 
ing of  the  King's  army.  Bodies  of  men-at-arms,  boAV- 
men,  billmen,  demi-lancers,  and  horse-archers,  were 
being  marched  through  the  streets  to  the  camp ;  and 
many  an  Esquire  or  Coiis/il/ier,  was  hastening  thither 
bearing  the  arms  or  leading  the  war-horse  of  his 
kniglit :  whilst  the  town  resounded  with  the  grinding 
of  weapons,  the  twanging  of  bows,  the  burnishing  of 
arms,  and  the  continual  clang  of  the  hammers  of 
smiths,  armourers,  and  braziers,  who  were  shoeing  the 
steeds,  or  completing  the  harness  of  the  knights  and 
soldiers.  Nor  did  there,  iu  remote  streets,  want  even 
the  impious  oath,  the  loud  brawl,  the  full  tankard,  or 
tlie  idle  talk  of  the  baser  sort,  collected  into  groups, 
and  debating  with  great  violence  and  small  wisdom 
on  the  probable  issue  of  the  expected  figlit.  Per- 
plexed and  wondering  at  the  spirit-stirring  scenes 
around  me,  I  would  fain  have  lingered  on  my  way 
the  better  to  have  marked  tliem,  but  my  guide  ever 
and  anon  hastened  our  progress.  At  length  we  stop- 
ped at  a  large  liousc,  with  a  broad  overhanging  storey, 


12  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS. 

and  ornamented  vith  fair  timber- work,  standing  in  the 
street  leading  to  the  Nortli-Gate.  Against  it,  carved 
upon  a  stone,  was  the  figure  of  a  White  Boar ;  and,  by 
a  person  in  a  blue  habit,  a  red  face,  and  a  white  apron, 
standing  at  the  door  seemingly  watching  our  arrival, 
it  appeared  to  be  a  hostel. 

"  So  !  fairly  ridden,"  said  my  guide,  reining  in  his 
horse  and  beckoning  to  the  Host  who  assisted  me  to 
alight,  "  here,  then,  youth,  ends  your  travel  for  the 
present.  Look  to  this  stripling,  Jankin  Stoup,"  added 
he  to  the  Tavern-keeper,  "  give  him  food,  and  let  him 
go  to  rest  in  the  wainscot-chamber,  until  I  return, 
which  will  be  by  the  midnight  bell." 

Thus  saying  he  rode  away,  and  after  a  slight  re- 
fection, the  Host  led  me  into  a  rich  apartment  of  oak, 
quaintly  carved,  wherein  was  a  large  square  bedstead 
with  pillars,  choicely  sculptured  and  in  some  parts 
gilt,  of  a  richer  kind  than  I  had  ever  then  seen. 
Wearied  with  the  journey  I  had  undergone,  and  per- 
plexed in  mind  as  to  the  purport  thereof,  I  hastily 
said  over  my  night-prayers,  and  sinking  down  upon 
the  couch  was  speedily  lost  in  a  heavy  slumber. 


CHAPTER  II. 


A  SCENE  NEAR  BOSWOHTH  FIELD  ON  THE  EVE  OF 

BATTLE. 


Wonder  no  more  wliy  thou  art  hither  brouglit, 
The  secret  of  thy  birth  shall  now  be  shewn; 

With  glorious  ardour  be  thy  bosom  fraught. 

For,  know,  thou  art — Imperial  Richard's  son  I 

*  «  »  » 

Begone,  my  son  i — this  one  embrace  ! — away  ! 

Some  short  reflections  claims  this  awful  night ; 
Ere  from  the  East  peep  forth  the  glimmering  day, 

My  linights  attend  to  arm  uie  for  the  fight. 

Hull's  Richard  Plantaobnkt. 

The  fatigues  which  I  had  undergone  had  so  ex- 
hausted my  strength,  that  the  deej)  sleep  into  which 
I  had  fallen  continued  unbroken,  until  I  Avas  awakened 
by  the  voice  of  my  conductor  at  the  side  of  my  couch. 
"  What,  ho  !  youth,"  said  he,  shaking  me,  "I  pr'ythee 
bestir  tliyself :  for  albeit  I  marvel  not  that  thy  weak 
limbs  should  want  rest  and  thy  young  eyes  be  drow- 
sy, yet  thou  must  now  up  and  tarry  no  longer ;  for 
the  bell  will  soon  tell  midnight,  and  we  must  be 
gone."     So  saying  he  threw  over  me  a  rich  dark -co- 


14  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS. 

loured  hncqiic,  or  mantle,  used  chiefly  by  knights  and 
nobles  at  tournaments,  wlierein  I  was  completely  en- 
wrapped; and  briefly  ordering  me  to  follow  him  in 
silence,  led  me  forth  through  the  town,  and  again 
mounting  fresh  horses,  we  rode  at  a  rapid  pace  toward 
the  West  into  the  country. 

I  soon  perceived  from  the  martial  scenes  around 
me,  and  the  oft-repeated  challenges  of  parties  of  sol- 
diers,— to  whom  my  guide  made  a  low,  and  brief  re- 
ply, which  procured  us  leave  to  pass  them, — that  we 
approached  near  to  that  fatal  plain  which  was  full 
soon  to  become  the  field  of  battle.  It  appeared  to  mc 
upon  that  most  memorable  night,  and  on  the  morrow, 
when  I  might  still  more  duly  note  that  which  I  shall 
now  depict — as  a  spacious  tract  of  open,  uneven,  and 
uncultivated,  country,  somewhat  of  a  round,  or  oval, 
shape ;  being  perchance  of  about  two  miles  long,  and 
one  broad.  From  the  red  colour  of  the  earth  tliereof, 
— too  soon,  alas !  to  be  dyed  with  a  deeper  stain  of 
sanguine  by  the  blood  of  a  Sovereign, — the  field  was 
called  Redmoor  Plain ;  and  on  the  South-western 
side  it  was  bounded  by  a  rivulet  called  Tweed,  which 
glided  through  a  valley  between  the  camps  of  the 
opposing  armies,  and  supplied  them  both  with  water; 
thus  recalling  unto  my  mind  Our  Lord's  words,  that 
"  God  doth  send  his  rain  alike  upon  the  just  and  on 
the  unjust."  Unto  this  streamlet,  flowed  the  narrow 
marshy  channel  of  a  fair  spring,  which  rose  upon  a 
mound  named  Aymon-hill  on  the  East,  and  formed  a 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS.  lit 

little  square  and  obscure  font,  surrounded  by  dank 
mosses  and  mould  :  but  yet  I  truly  protest  unto  them 
that  shall  hereafter  read  my  story,  that  to  me,  that 
small  well  is  venerable  as  the  Fountain  of  Jacob  was 
to  the  men  of  Israel ;  since  it  was  there  that  King 
Richard  drank  his  last  earthly  draught,  and  gave  unto 
it's  friendly  waters  some  sparkles  of  his  own  inniior- 
tality.  The  rustic  who  now  points  out  in  that  desolate 
field  the  spot  of  the  last  battle  between  the  contending 
Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster,  still  calls  it  "  King 
Richard's  Well ;"  and  many  of  the  country  hinds  yet 
love  to  drink  thereof,  whilst  they  turn  them  away 
from  the  Tweed ;  which  they  declare  hath  unto  this 
day  a  stain  of  the  blood  of  the  fallen  running  in  it's 
streams. 

When  we  arrived  at  this  place,  the  last  dim  rays 
of  the  setting  moon  were  cast  upon  the  camps  and 
mounds  of  the  two  armies :  those  of  Harry  Tudor 
being  erected  close  to  the  Tweed,  which  he  had  lately 
crossed,  and  somewhat  North-west  of  King  Richard's 
well,  at  the  foot  of  Aymon-hill.  His  tents  of  strijied 
green  and  white;  his  broad  banner,  pitched  beside 
his  own  pavilion,  bearing  a  red  fiery  dragon,  fairly 
wrought  upon  green  and  white  sarcenet,  to  comme- 
morate his  vain  boast  of  descent  from  Cadwallader, 
the  last  of  the  British  Kings  ;  and  his  soldiers  clad  in 
white  coats  and  hoods,  were  all  faintly  visible  through 
the  i)ale  moonlight,  until  they  were  at  last  obscured 
by  the  mist  which  came  on  so  thickly  on  the  morning 


lt>  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGKNE TS. 

of  the  day  of  battle.     As  I  have  since  learned^   liis 
bulwark  encompassed  some  seven  acres  of  the  field, 
and  his  whole  power,  together  with  that  led  over  to 
him  by  the  treacherous  Stanleys,  who  as  yet  seemed 
to  adhere  unto  the  King,  hath  been  truly  computed 
at  full  ] 5,000  men;  albeit  the  unfaithful  chroniclers 
of  the  victor  would  fain  have  it    believed,   that   his 
triumph  was  wrought  almost  without  an  army.     The 
camp  and  fortifications  of  King  Richard,  to  which  I 
was  conducted,  were  fixed  at  Stapleton,  some  eleven 
miles  from  Leicester,  and  nearly  two  from  the  enemy, 
on   certain    rising   grounds,    called    the   Bradshaws  ; 
whence  we  might  well  behold  the  plain  of  Bosworth, 
and  to  which   no  adversary  could  approach   unseen. 
The  royal  defences  and  camp  spread  over  eighteen 
acres;  and  were  fonned  of  two  lines,  having  a  won- 
drous mound  of  earth,  300  yards  long,  cast  up  be- 
hind them. 

Whilst  I  gazed  on  these  things,  and  marvelled 
greatly  as  to  why  I  was  brought  thither  with  such 
haste  and  contrivance,  we  entered  the  camp,  and 
passed  through  the  long  lines  of  tents  striped  with  the 
York  liveries  of  crimson  and  blue,  until  we  came  to 
the  Royal  Pavilion,  which  stood  in  the  centre,  having 
iipreared  beside  it  the  King's  standard  of  azure  and 
red  sarcenet  in  quarters ;  bearing  the  fleurs-de-lys  of 
France  and  the  lions  of  England,  richly  wrought 
thereon  in  goldsmiths'  work  of  beaten  metal.  The 
tent  itself  was  of  a  large  square  form,  with  a  sloping 


i 


1 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS.  17 

roof,  all  being  made  of  crimson  and  blue  canvas,  and 
surmounted  by  divers  little  gilded  pensils,  and  the 
Kings  badges :  such  as  the  golden  cross  and  crown, 
for  the  blessed  St.  Edward  the  Confessor ;  the  red 
and  ermine  chapeau,  with  the  golden  lion  of  England  ; 
the  lily  of  France  ;  the  golden  grey-hound  of  Wales ; 
the  Irish  harp  ;  and  the  oak-branch  for  the  Dukedoms 
of  Gascoyne  and  Guyon.  On  the  top  in  the  midst 
were  a  stately  imperial  crown,  and  the  King's  peculiar 
badge  of  a  silver  boar,  with  tusks  and  bristles  of  gold. 
The  liveries  of  the  soldiers  in  this  camp  were  also 
chiefly  white,  having  the  holy  cross  in  red  upon  their 
breasts ;  though  others  were  dressed  in  the  colours 
belonging  to  their  leaders;  or  in  habits  of  coarse  clotli 
strengthened  with  iron  plates,  or  arming-doviblets  of 
iron  and  leather,  with  sleeves  of  chain-mail,  and  stout 
helmets  and  leathern  liose  also  strengthened  with  iron. 
Their  weapons  were  divers  kinds  of  swords  and  bows, 
spears  and  lances,  bills  and  sharp  blades  set  upon 
staves  ;  with  iron  and  leaden  maces,  quarter-staves, 
and  heavy  flails,  not  less  destructive,  and  of  still 
greater  power.  But  all  this,  I  say,  I  belield  more  per- 
fectly upon  the  morrow. 

As  we  approached  the  King's  pavilion,  the  senti- 
nels, upon  receiving  the  word  from  my  conductor, 
lowered  their  gisarmes  and  stood  aside,  that  we  might 
straightway  pass  into  it;  tlie  Knight  having  been 
commanded  of  his  Highness  to  attend  him  at  that 
hour.  On  entering  the  tent  we  found  the  King 
already  risen  from  his  coiich.  and  seated  l)y  a  table  on 

c 


18  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS. 

which  were  scattered  divers  papers  and  parchments, 
a  brazen  penner  and  inkhorn,  and  letters  of  which 
the  silk  strings  were  uncut,  and  the  seals  were  yet 
unbroken.  A  massive  silver  crucifix  stood  in  the 
midst,  and  before  it  was  a  fair  illuminated  missal 
open  at  the  Office  of  St.  George,  which  the  King  had 
questionless  been  reciting  for  success  in  the  coming 
conflict.  The  volume  was  richly  bound  in  blue  vel- 
vet, having  the  edges  thereof  guarded  with  bosses  and 
clasps  of  gold,  graven  with  curious  devices.  A  large 
silver  cresset,  hung  from  the  roof  of  the  tent,  gave 
light  to  the  remainder  of  the  apartment,  and  glanced 
upon  a  pile  of  bright  steel  armour,  which  lay  beside 
a  couch,  and  a  thickly-quilted  surcoat  of  blue  and 
red  velvet  richly  purfled  with  the  arms  of  the  Sove- 
reign in  most  rare  embroidery  ;  but  the  sword  be- 
longing to  this  stately  harness  lay  naked  upon  the 
table. 

I  had  not  been  well  able  to  note  half  of  these  ob- 
jects, w^hen  the  King  started,  and  hastily,  yet  not  un- 
courteously,  accosted  my  knightly  conductor  with 
"  How  now  !  Who's  there  ?  what,  is  it  thou,  good 
De  Mountford?  hast  thou  performed  that  which  I 
gave  thee  in  charge  some  three  days  agone.''" 

"Aye,  so  please  your  Grace,"  answered  the  soldier, 
"  it  is  done,  as  your  Highness  may  eftsoons  have  proof 
of;"  and  with  these  words  he  pointed  to  myself,  who 
was  gazing  upon  the  whole  scene  alike  with  wonder 
at  the  present  and  curiosity  for  the  future,  when  he 
speedily  put  to  flight  my  musiiigs  by  drawing  me  for- 


I 


THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGKNETS.  19 

ward  to  the  King,  and  directing  me  to  kneel,  which 
I  incontinently  did. 

"  Hah  !"  exclaimed  the  royal  Richard,  lookinof  at- 
tentively  at  me,  "he  hath  indeed  her  form  ! — this  is 
right  well  and  quickly  done,  my  trusty  Sir  Gilbert ; 
but  I  pray  thee  now  repose  thyself  for  awhile  in  the 
outer-tent,  where  thou  wilt  find  food  and  wine  set 
forth  for  thee,  and  leave  this  youth  with  me,  we  must 
have  some  conference  together,  which  ended,  I  will 
send  him  to  thee  again." 

Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford  then  made  alow  reverence 
to  the  King,  and  thanking  him  with  all  humble  duty, 
retired,  leaving  me  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  in 
tlie  presence  of  a  Sovereign. 

Great  was  my  disorder  at  being  thus  left  alone  with 
so  noble  and  exalted  a  personage ;  yet  do  I  not  speak 
of  his  greatness  of  rank  only,  but  also  of  his  goodly 
form  and  courteous  manner ;  for  that  record  of  him 
is  all  untrue,  which  was  written  what  time  the  Retl 
Rose  prevailed  over  the  White,  declaring  that 
Richard  was  fearful  to  look  upon.  He  was  not,  in 
truth,  as  one  hath  of  late  full  slanderously  described 
him,  "  little  of  stature,  ill-featured  of  limbs,  crook- 
backed,  his  left  shoulder  much  higher  tlian  his  right, 
and  hard-favoured  of  visage  ;"  * — none  of  these  was  he : 


*  This  description  of  King  llichard's  person  is  in  Sir  Tho- 
mas More's  iniperlect  History  of  his  reign,  supposed  to  have 
been  written  in  Latin  in  1508,  and  translated  about  the  vear 
181.3. 


20  THK     LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

for  thouj^li  his  person  were  not  of  the  tallest,  it  Avas 
well  up  to  the  middle  stature  of  men ;  and  albeit  one 
of  his  shoulders  might  be  somewhat  higher  than  it's 
fellow,  yet  he  had  a  shrewd  eye  who  did  discover  it, 
and  a  passing  malicious  wit  who  reported  it  to  be  a 
great  defoi-mity.  As  for  his  face,  in  good  sooth  it 
had  none  evil  expression  in  it ;  though  it  was  marked 
with  mucli  serious  anxiety,  and  was  pale  and  disco- 
loured from  weariness  and  an  agitated  mind,  which 
scared  his  brief  slumbers  with  fearful  dreams,  and 
gave  occasion  to  his  enemies  to  say  that  he  was 
haunted  by  a  guilty  conscience.  Nevertheless,  his 
step  and  demeanour  were  full  of  pomp  and  royalty ; 
so  that  it  wanted  not  for  any  one  to  say  even  unto 
me,  though  but  a  simple  cloister-bred  youth,  "  that 
is  the  King !"  since  all  men  might  well  perceive  that 
he  could  be  of  nothing  less  than  the  blood-royal,  or 
the  wearer  of  a  crown.  His  habit  was  the  close  dress 
of  red  velvet  which  he  wore  under  his  armour,  sur- 
mounted by  a  blue  velvet  robe  lined  with  fair  ermines, 
and  choicely  embroidered  with  the  letter  of  his 
name  in  gold.  The  blue  Garter  of  England  embraced 
liis  knee,  and  the  enamelled  George  thereof,  liung  to 
an  azure  scarf  round  his  neck  ;  whilst  upon  his  head 
he  wore  a  chapeau  of  red  velvet  and  ermine,  which 
threw  his  rich  and  full  brown  hair  back  upon  his 
shoulders. 

When  Sir  Gilbert  De  IMountford  had  gone  forth 
from  the  tent,   King  Richard  took  up  a  lamp,  and. 


ll 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  21 

approaching  me,  gently  grasped  my  hand,  raised  me, 
and  drew  me  towards  him,  bidding  me  to  fear  no- 
thing. Then,  by  the  light  he  most  curiously  perused 
my  features,  and  looked  steadily  at  my  visage  for  some 
brief  space,  though  he  spake  not ;  whilst  I,  wondering 
much  as  to  what  this  review  of  me  might  tend,  some- 
what faltered  and  looked  downward.  The  King,  ob- 
serving this,  deemed  that  I  had  trembled  from  fear 
of  him,  which  nevertheless  was  not  the  case,  since  all 
his  carriage  was  full  gentle,  and  all  his  words  of  pas- 
sing sweetness.  "  Why,  how  now,  fair  youth  .^"  said 
he ;  "  art  thou  afeard,  that  thou  fallest  back  and 
tremblest  thus.?   for  I  did  mark  thee  right  well." 

To  this  I  answered  that  I  feared  not,  and  added 
that  I  shrank  backwards  only  from  the  sense  of  mine 
own  unworthiness ;  being  altogether  unused  to 
worldly  glories,  and  so  might  not  stand  unabashed  in 
the  presence  of  a  Sovereign. 

"  Why  that  is  Avell  said,  my  pretty  youth,"  an- 
swered Richard  ;  "  thou  seemest  to  have  a  passing 
shrewd  wit  for  one  of  thy  years  and  cloister-breed- 
ing; and  for  thy  face,  it  altogether  unmans  me  to 
look  upon  it,  since  it  brings  back  unto  my  mind 
the  dear  and  beauteous  features  of  one  wliom  I  sliall 
never  behold  again  upon  earth.     Thy  mother,  boy, — " 

"My  mother!"  hastily  interrupted  I  witli  fervour, 
at  this  first  mention  of  that  most  sweet  word  towards 
myself;  "good  my  Lord,"  I  continued,  clasping  the 
King's  hand  and  again  sinking  on  one  knee,  "  tell  me 


22  THK    LAST    OF    THK    PI.ANTAGENKTS. 

of  my  mother,  I   implore  you ;  say,   I  beseech   you, 
where  I  may  find  her,  and  clasp  her  unto  my  heart." 

The  King  seemed  to  struggle  with  divers  sorrow- 
ful emotions,  he  permitted  me  to  retain  his  hand,  but 
he  turned  his  face  upward  and  covered  it  with  the 
other ;  and  at  length  replied  in  a  sad  and  solemn 
voice,  "  She  is  where  I  also  may  be  before  this  day 
be  ended."  The  recollection  of  her  then  seemed  to 
rush  upon  his  memory  in  a  flood  of  grief,  as  he  gazed 
upon  me  and  added,  "  Oh  !  she  was  a  wondrous  fair 
one ;  and  thou,  for  a  boy,  hast  no  slight  semblance  of 
her  ;  by  the  holy  St.  Agnes  !  thou  hast  her  clear  blue 
eye, — the  very  trick  of  her  face :  and  she  was  a  bles- 
sed creature,  youth  ! —  Nay,  she  is  a  blessed  creature, 
for  she  is  in  Paradise  !  albeit  our  marriage  was  a 
hidden  one.  But,  boy,"  interrupted  he,  in  a  fiercer 
tone,  as  I  changed  colour,  and  looked  downwards 
with  tears,  "  I  do  mistrust  thee,  and  well  believe  that 
thou  (lost  fear  me.  I  wot  that  men  tell  strange  tales 
of  Richard  Plantagenet,  and  thou,  I  deem,  hast  lis- 
tened to  them  :  say,  hast  thou  not  heard  many  speak 
evil  things  of  me  ?" 

I  answered  with  a  hesitating  voice,  that  in  the  soli- 
tude of  Ely  Monastery  the  tidings  which  we  heard 
of  the  world  were  but  few  and  brief,  and  still  more 
so  to  the  Scholars  and  Novices ;  but  this  I  said,  be- 
cause it  greatly  misliked  me  to  tell  him  of  the  cen- 
sure which  common  fame  uttered  against  him. 

"A    wary  answer,"  replied  the    King;     "though 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  23 

whiles  thy  speech  saith  thus,  thine  eyes,  which  have 
not  yet  learned  to  be  of  counsel  with  thy  tongue,  give 
altogether  another  response.  The  truth  is,  that  thou 
hast  heard  me  called  murtherer,  usurper,  and  tyrant ; 
speak,  boy,  is  it  not  so  ?" 

I  was  much  ashamed  at  being  thus  detected,  and 
though  it  still  pained  me  to  acknowledge  it,  I  dared 
no  longer  continue  in  my  denial,  for  the  which  he 
lauded  me ;  but  demanded  what  I  had  heard  of  his 
crimes,  and  whether  it  were  not  that  he  had  put  his 
nephews  in  the  Tower  unto  secret  death.  I  now  an- 
swered boldly  that  this  had  been  reported,  and,  more- 
over, that  he  had  caused  their  bodies  to  be  crammed 
into  coffins  full  of  holes,  and  flung  into  the  river  of 
Thames  in  the  night-tide. 

"  Now  by  holy  Pavil !"  exclaimed  the  King  fervent- 
ly, and  as  methought  with  the  indignation  of  inno- 
cence unjustly  accused,  "I  would  to  God  that  every 
drop  of  that  fair  broad  stream  could  be  strained 
through  a  net  of  such  small  meshes,  that  not  the  pu- 
niest minnow  might  'scape  betwixt  them  ;  that  all 
my  subjects  should  know  how  guiltless  I  am  of  this 
murther !  But  slanders  like  these,  boy,  do  ever  dog 
the  footsteps  of  royalty.  The  King  upon  his  throne 
is  a  mark  at  Avhich  the  base  and  envious  of  all  degrees 
do  shoot  their  bolts,  if  so  be  they  bask  not  in  the 
sunshine  of  his  favour." 

"  I  can  well  deem  it,  my  gracious  Lord,"  answered 
I,  "for  of  such  do  wc  often  read  in  the  holy  text." 


24  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

"  Aye,"  returned  he,  "  and  shouldest  thou  ever  rise 
to  greatness,  prepare  thee  to  encounter  the  like ;  should 
the  fortunes  of  thy  life  be  otherwise,  let  the  avoidance 
of  this  slander  be  thy  consolation." 

Upon  this  I  felt  myself  more  than  ever  amazed,  and 
at  first  somewhat  doubted  whether  his  speech  were  in 
sooth  addressed  to  me,  or  whether  I  had  heard  him 
aright ;  I  also  sought  in  my  mind  for  a  fitting  answer 
thereto,  but  found  no  words,  until  at  length  I  said, 
"Methinks  I  would  not  desire  to  be  a  King ;  but  every 
kind  feeling  of  my  soul  is  yearning  to  embrace  my 
beloved,  though  unknown,  parents." 

"  By  the  Blessed  Virgin  I"  suddenly  exclaimed  the 
King,  "  he  hath  the  very  look  and  voice  of  my  lost 
and  deserted  Matilda,  melting  with  all  the  fervency 
of  her  ardent  love,  which  again  springs  forth  in  the 
child  of  our  dearest  embraces. — I  can  counterfeit  it  no 
longer, —  Youth  ! — Richard! — Plantagenet !  —  obscu- 
rity shall  now  cease  to  enwrap  thee  in  it's  veil, — 
In  me  behold  thy  father!" 

At  this  most  wondrous  avowal  I  felt  a  strange 
confusion  run  through  all  my  veins;  my  heart  beat 
quickly  and  powerfully,  and  my  blood  rushed  forward 
unto  my  face  as  if  Avith  a  sense  of  the  high  dignity  I 
was  born  to,  yet  could  I  not  choose  but  again  sink 
before  the  feet  of  King  Richard,  and  embrace  his 
knees  in  silence  and  in  tears.  "  I  can  well  think,  my 
fair  son,"  said  he  at  lengtli,  when  his  agitation  first 
gave  back  to  liim  the  power  of  speech,  "that  wild 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETP.  25 

amazement  hath  bound  up  all  thy  senses ;  since  the 
boldest  dreams  of  thy  youth-hood  never  lured  thee  to 
such  a  height  of  ambition,  nor  whispered  how  near 
thou  stoodest  to  the  crown  of  England  !  yet  is  it  most 
true  that  thou  art  mine  own  noble  son,  since  thy  mo- 
ther, my  betrothed  wife,  was  a  creature  of  virtue  upon 
earth,  and  is  now  a  Saint  in  Heaven.  Why  her  mar- 
riage and  thy  birth  were  concealed,  is  a  tale  too 
long  to  tell  thee  at  this  hour,  when  war  is  in  the  land; 
but  this  foul  rebellion  once  quelled,  all  shall  be  made 
known," 

"  It  is  enough,  my  noble  Lord  and  father,"  replied 
I,  somewhat  recovering  from  the  confusion  into  which 
this  marvellous  succession  of  events  had  thrown  me, 
"  it  is  enough  for  me  to  have  your  countenance  and 
favour;  my  most  humble  submission  and  duty  you 
might  have  claimed  before  this  gracious  disclosure; 
but  now.  Sire,  you  have  a  double  hold  upon  mine 
obedience,  since  I  see  in  you  my  only  living  parent, 
as  well  as  my  Sovereign," 

"  Well  spoken,  my  fair  son,"  responded  King  Rich- 
ard ;  "  by  the  blessed  soldier  St.  George  !  I  had  not 
thought  to  have  loved  thee  thus,  or  to  have  told  thee 
how  great  thou  art,  had  not  thy  mother  looked  out  so 
tenderly  from  thine  eyes,  and  besought  me  not  to 
forsake  thee :  yet  could  I  not  march  forth  to  quell 
these  base  and  daring  rebels,  without  desiring  to  see 
and  counsel  thee  as  to  thine  after  life;  for  perchance 
the  day  which  is  approaching  may  light  me  to  my 
death  ! " 


26  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

"Holy  St.  Mary  defend  your  royal  Grace!"  ex- 
claimed I,  in  alarm,  devoutly  crossing  myself,  "  and 
scatter  your  foes  as  chaff  before  the  wind  ;  even  as  the 
sacred  Psalter  saith,  IMay  God  clothe  your  enemies 
with  confusion !" 

"  Grammercy  for  thy  prayers,  my  young  priest/' 
answered  the  King  merrily  and  exultingly,  "  pass  but 
a  few  days  more,  and  this  drove  of  famished  clowns, 
the  scum  of  France,  and  the  very  refuse  of  it's  goals 
and  'spital-houses,  with  Harry  Richmond  their  leader, 
who  now  vainly  menaces  the  safety  of  my  throne, 
shall  be  swept  away  before  the  banners  of  Richard's 
army !  whilst  those  who  'scape  the  axe,  the  sword, 
and  the  halter,  shall  sink  into  their  wonted  obscurity, 
and  be  heard  of  no  more.  For  I  swear  to  thee,  boy, 
that  having  set  my  life  and  crown  upon  this  stake,  I 
will  either  win  them  and  wear  them  as  becometh  a 
monarch  and  a  conqueror,  or  leave  my  bloody  corse 
upon  the  battle-field,  as  a  pledge  that  I  fairly  played 
out  the  game  like  an  undaunted  soldier  ! " 

Whilst  he  spake,  his  countenance  glowed  with  the 
valour  which  then  inspired  him,  his  eyes  flashed  with 
a  dark  lustre,  and  he  looked  up  with  triumph ;  but 
upon  turning  his  face  downward,  and  beholding  me 
who  was  intently  gazing  upon  him,  and,  peradventure, 
with  answering  glances,  he  again  became  grave,  and 
said,  "  For  thee,  Richard,  my  admonition  must  be, 
that  thou  presently  depart  hence  with  all  speed :  yet 
trust  me  that  it  much  forethinketh  me  to  give  son 
of  mine  such  counsel.     Had  but  a  few  more  summers 


THK    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  27 

passed  over  thy  head,  and  lifted  thy  youth  to  the 
verge  of  manhood,  by  the  might  of  God  I  would  have 
had  thee  buckle  on  thine  harness,  carried  thee  with 
me  into  the  hottest  fight,  and  there  taught  thee  how 
to  combat  for  the  crown  which  even  yet  it  may  be 
thine  to  wear." 

His  deep  and  inspiring  tones,  and  the  energy  with 
which  he  spake,  seemed  to  make  me  glow  with  a  desire 
for  arms  which  I  had  never  felt  before ;  and  gave  me 
such  stomach  for  conflict,  that  for  a  moment  it  ap- 
peared unto  me  a  light  thing  to  march  forth  with 
him,  to  do  battle,  and  even  to  die,  by  his  side.  This 
courageous  spirit  being  soon  perceived  by  King  Rich- 
ard, he  joyfully  exclaimed,  "  Hah  !  by  the  glistening 
lustre  of  thine  eyes,  I  see  thou  feelest  full  well  the 
ardour  of  a  soldier ;  and  I  would  that  thou  mightest 
be  one  in  very  sooth,  for  Richard  Plantagenet  would 
smile  even  in  the  midst  of  death  and  bloodshed,  to 
mark  the  young  whirlwind  of  his  own  raising  scatter 
to  the  Fiend  the  bold  invader,  which  now  makes  head 
against  the  House  ofYoi-k." 

At  this  time  our  conference  was  interrupted  by  the 
sound  of  the  guards  gisarmes  striking  twice  upon  the 
earth  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  which  Avas  the  King's 
appointed  signal  when  any  one  approached  his  pre- 
sence. A  captain,  whose  name  I  remember  not,  tlien 
entered  with  divers  letters,  wliich  King  Richard  took 
and  forthwith  read,  giving  the  messenger  certain 
scrolls  in  answer,  and  after  brief  speech  dismissing 


28  THE    LAST    OP    THK    TLANTAGKNETS. 

him.  He  then  turned  again  unto  me,  and  for  that  he 
had  weighty  matters  which  demanded  his  instant 
care,  he  pointed  to  his  couch  and  bade  me  rest  awliile, 
ordering  wine  and  such  provisions  as  his  camp  would 
furnish  to  be  placed  before  me,  until  he  should  again 
have  leisure  to  conclude  our  conference.  With  much 
careful  attention  tlie  King  then  took  up  his  letters  and 
re-perused  them,  but  their  contents  seemed  greatly  to 
perplex  or  to  disturb  him.  He  often  wrote  hastily, 
and  to  me  appeared  to  be  designing  of  a  draught, 
which  I  deemed  to  be  a  map  of  the  battle-field  and 
the  order  of  his  armament.  Sometimes  also  he  rose 
and  silently  paced  the  tent  with  his  arms  crossed,  and 
then  walked  forth  to  mark  if  his  soldiers  were  watch- 
ful, and  to  issvie  divers  commands  vmto  his  leaders. 
Yet  were  not  his  guards  all  vigilant;  for  in  that  night 
there  was  treachery  in  his  camp,  since  Sir  Simon 
Digby  came  thither  as  a  spy,  though  at  hazard  of  his 
life,  and  carried  word  thence  unto  Harry  Tudor  how 
the  King  was  making  him  ready  for  battle.  After  this 
visitation  of  his  camp,  Richard  anon  returned,  and 
seated  him  at  the  table  again,  erasing  his  former  scrip- 
tion  and  writing  as  it  were  some  newer  and  fairer  copy. 
Thus  was  he  occupied,  perchance  for  more  than  an 
hour's  space ;  during  which  time  I  did  intently  watch 
his  motions,  or  marked  the  pavilion  and  it's  furniture, 
and  rich  hangings  of  divers-coloured  tapestry,  and  the 
bright  ])olish  of  liis  embossed  steel  armour,  with  the 
other  harness  which  ^vas  to  fit  him  for  the  approach- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  20 

ina;  fight.  The  King,  however,  appeared  not  to  note 
my  presence,  being  as  it  were  overwliehned  Vvith  tlie 
anxieties  of  royalty  and  the  leading  of  a  host  on  the 
eve  of  battle  ;  but  to  me  his  every  look  and  motion 
was  matter  of  wonder  or  concernment,  being  the  first 
of  human  creatures  whom  I  had  ever  known  as  kin- 
dred, as  well  as  the  Sovereign  of  the  realm. 

The  plain  and  frugal  diet  to  which  I  had  been  ac- 
customed in  the  Monastery  of  Ely,  and  the  frequent 
vigils  and  brief  slumbers  which  we  were  wont  to  use 
there,  had  made  me  taste  but  little  of  the  food  before 
me,  and  kept  mine  eyes  from  becoming  drowsy  with 
the  lateness  of  the  hour  ;  yet  I  sank  into  a  thoughtful 
musing  upon  my  past  and  future  fortunes,  from  which 
I  was  aroused  only  by  the  King  touching  me  and  say- 
ing :  "  Wake  thee,  my  gentle  son,  wake  thee,  albeit 
I  am  full  loath  to  break  upon  thy  repose,  yet  is  it 
now  time  that  thou  wentest  hence.  Thine  eyes  are 
open,  yet  still  thy  spirit  sleepeth  :  for  as  yet  thou  hast 
not  the  weight  of  a  diadem  upon  thy  brow  to  keep 
thee  wakeful,  and  cause  slumber  to  fly  from  thy  re- 
gal pillow."  In  reply  I  began  to  excuse  myself,  say- 
ing that  I  slept  not,  but  was  lost  in  thought  at  the 
wondrous  matters  he  had  disclosed  to  me. 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  King,  "  I  had  not  marvelled 
hadst  thou  been  in  truth  sleeping ;  so  it  asks  not  an 
excuse,  for  the  eyelids  of  youth  can  be  pressed  into 
slumber  by  the  weight  of  a  thistle-down  ;  and  were  I 
as  free  from   years  and  care  as  thou  art,  trust  me  I 


30  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGKNKTS. 

would  rather  sliare,  than  break,  tliy  repose.  But 
he  who  would  be  great,  must  set  lightly  by  rest : 
though  perchance  thy  school-philosophy  hath  taught 
thee  that  true  wisdom  would  prefer  the  shepherd's 
crook  to  the  monarch's  sceptre.  Nevertheless,  my 
boy,  these  desires  must  issue  from  the  mind  alone  : 
for  as  there  be  creatures  which  cannot  live  upon  the 
earth,  but  fly  towering  aloft  into  the  clouds,  so  there 
are  men  whose  spirits  as  naturally  soar  on  higli  after 
greatness  and  command,  as  doth  the  eagle  wing  his 
way  upward  all  undazzled  to  the  sun." 

Whereunto  I  made  reply,  saying,  "but  now  I 
deemed  your  Grace  said,  that  you  would  I  had  been 
of  years  fit  to  go  with  you  to  battle,  and  fight  for  the 
crown  of  England." 

"And  so  1  would,"  answered  Richard,  "for  as 
God  shall  speed  me  this  day,  I  would  see  thee  brave, 
aspiring,  and  invincible  in  the  field  as  the  immortal 
sable  Knight,  the  son  of  the  Third  Edward.  And 
why  ?  because  thou  too  art  the  son  of  a  Sovereign  ; 
and  as  I  deemed,  must  share  thy  father's  ardour." 

"  So  please  you,  then,  my  gracious  Sire,"  answered 
1,  "  if  it  stand  with  your  liking  to  use  my  poor  ser- 
vices, I  shall  gladly  go  forth  with  your  knights  into 
the  field,  and  share  in  every  danger  to  Avhich  your 
sacred  person  may  be  exposed."  And  even  whilst  I 
spake,  a  sad  presentiment  came  over  me  that  I  should 
never  more  embrace  my  new-found  parent,  and  in 
despite  of  me  the  tears  ran  down  my  face. 


THE    LAST    OF     THE    PLAN TAGENBTS.  81 

"  Poor  fool  !"  exclaimed  King  Richard,  "  thou  art 
a  passing  well-spoken  and  tender  youth,  for  even  now 
thine  eyes  have  bedewed  thy  cheeks  ;  yet  thy  tears 
shame  thee  not  as  they  are  those  of  love  and  not  of 
fear.  But,  no,  it  may  not  be,  thou  canst  not  go  fortli 
with  me  now  ;  for  ere  another  night  enwrap  the  eartli 
in  darkness,  I  may  be  stretched  a  bloody  and  disho- 
noured corse  upon  yonder  plain.  Therefore  thou 
shalt  haste  thee  presently  away,  since  to  be  known  for 
mine  would  be  thy  sure  destruction." 

"  I  trust  in  God,  Sire,"  said  I  with  a  faltering  voice, 
"  that  this  shall  not  be,  but  that  you  shall  return 
again  a  victor." 

"  So  trust  I  by  the  might  of  St.  George  and  my 
good  sword,"  ansAvered  the  King,  "  yet  will  a  wise 
leader  ever  provide  against  the  worst,  and  my  only 
fears  are  for  thee.  Take  then  this  purse,— it  is  well 
filled  with  gold,  which  is  the  great  ruler  of  man- 
kind ; — and  this  ring  also,  which  was  thy  sainted  mo- 
ther's, and  which,  alas !  that  I  am  now  in  such  straits, 
is  all  that  I  possess  to  bestow  upon  my  son  !'* 

Sinking  on  one  knee  and  kissing  the  King's  hand 
whilst  I  bedewed  it  Avith  my  tears,  I  received  tlie 
parting  gift  of  my  royal  father,  greatly  distressed  at 
the  sorrowful  words  whicli  lie  spake  to  me ;  but  much 
more  so  when  lie  added  :— "  Now,  my  boy,  mark  well 
my  latest  counsel.  Should  tlie  daring  rebels  who  have 
provoked  my  sword  be  the  conquerors  in  this  day's 
fight,— though  I  deem  that  such  a  chance  is  well  nio-h 


32  THE    I-AST    OP    THE    PLAXTAGENETS. 

impossible, — tlicn  let  no  man  know  thy  birth,  but 
speedily  depart  for  London,  since  thou  may'st  hide 
thee  safest  in  a  crowded  city.  There,  bending  thy 
mind  unto  thy  fortunes,  seek  contentment  in  obscurity, 
and  give  up  all  thy  newly-sprung  hopes  of  honour 
and  a  crown  :  for  never  doubt  that  if  the  battle  be 
lost  to  the  House  of  York,  the  life  of  Richard  Plan- 
tagenet  will  be  lost  also  !" 

He  then  tenderly  embraced  me,  whilst  sorrow  and 
affection  appeared  to  divide  and  possess  his  bosom. 
INIine  own  tears  flowed  even  faster  than  before,  and  I 
could  only  murmur,  that  it  was  my  hope  that  so  fatal 
a  calamity  might  not  be ;  adding  that  such  prayers 
as  I  had  leai'nt  of  the  holy  fathers  of  Ely,  should  be 
fervently  put  up  for  his  prosperity.  To  this  he  re- 
plied, "  And  I,  also,  my  poor  boy,  commend  thee  to 
Heaven,  albeit  thine  own  innocence  will  best  plead 
for  thee  there.  But  now  thou  must  away,  since  it 
draws  near  sunrise ;  my  soldiers  will  be  here  anon  to 
arm  me,  and  I  must  hold  early  council  with  my  lead- 
ers.— Should  ill  befall  me,  do  as  I  have  warned  thee, 
but  till  then,  be  merry  in  the  hope  that  the  arms  of 
Richard  shall  drive  these  marauding  renegades  back 
to  their  coverts,  as  the  lion  scatters  with  his  roar  his 
subject  herds  of  the  forest. — Hie  thee  hence,  then,  my 
son, — my  pretty  boy, — nay,  speak  not, — I  would  not 
hear  thy  voice  again,  lest  it  waken  in  me  that  wo- 
manish softness  which  I  must  now  smother  beneath 
the  sternness  of  a  soldier.    If  we  meet  again,  thou  shalt 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  33 

see  me  crowned  with  victory  ;  and  in  the  day  of  Ricli- 
ard's  triumphant  glory,  will  he  proclaim  thee  a  Plnn- 
tagenet  before  England's  proudest  Barons,  whilst  the 
whole  realm  shall  offer  thee  it's  homage.  Then  Avill 
it  be  thine  to  command,  and  to  enjoy  a  wealthy  har- 
vest for  which  thou  didst  never  labour  ;  and  rising 
in  after-time  unto  my  high  estate,  thou  shalt  wear  the 
crown  for  Avhich  I  have  adventured,  and  when  tliy 
life  is  over  sleep  in  a  regal  sepulchre  !" 

Then,  having  again  embraced  me,  he  twice  struck 
his  sword  upon  the  table,  and  a  Captain  entered, 
wlio  forthwith  led  me  to  a  tent  where  Sir  Gilbert 
De  Mountford  awaited  my  coming.  As  the  King 
parted  from  me  at  the  opening  of  his  pavilion,  we 
marked  the  first  dull  dawnings  of  the  fatal  day  of 
battle  ;  upon  which,  pointing  to  the  East  he  said  unto 
his  Captain,  "  Seest  thou  yonder,  good  Sir  Gervase 
Clifton,  how  the  grey  morning  is  already  advancing 
to  rouse  the  dreaming  foes  of  York  from  their  brief 
slumber?  and,  so  hopes  my  soul,  speedily  to  light 
them  onward  to  that  which  shall  be  eternal !" 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    LAST    BATTLE    OF    THE    ROSES. 


Then,  Bosworth,  here  the  Muse,  now  lastly  bids  for  thee 
Thy  Battle  to  describe,  the  last  of  that  long  war. 

Entitled  by  the  name  of  York  and  Lancaster. 

*  *  *  X-  «  »  » 

No  sooner  'gan  the  dawn  out  of  the  East  to  peep. 
But  drums  and  trumpets  chide  the  soldiers  to  their  arms, 
And  all  the  neighbouring  fields  are  covered  with  the  swarms 
Of  those  that  came  to  fight  and  those  that  came  to  see, — 
Contending  for  a  Crown,  whose  that  great  day  should  be. 

Drayton's  Polyoi,bion. 


Think,  ye  see 


The  very  persons  of  our  noble  story. 

As  they  were  living  :  think,  ye  see  them  great : — 

tlien,  in  a  moment,  see 

How  soon  this  mightiness  meets  misery  ! 

Shakspeark. 

Deeply  impressed  and  wondrously  inspirited  by  the 
discourses  and  events  of  the  last  few  hours,  and 
animated  by  the  martial  array  which  surrounded  me, 
I  did  most  earnestly  entreat  of  Sir  Gilbert  De  IMount- 
ford  to  be  permitted  to  witness  the  conflict.  "  See 
the  battle,  youth  !"  exclaimed  he,   "  by  St.  George  ! 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  35 

thou  knowest  not  wheat  thou  art  asking  :  And  methinks 
for  a   stripling  bred  up  in  a  cloister  with  monks  and 
masses,  it   should  be  the  last  thing  i'th'  world  that 
thou  shouldest  desire  to  look  upon.     Trust  me  a  fight 
like  this  will  be  altogether  another  matter  from  reading 
of  one,  or  from  your  processions  and  chauntings  at  a 
Saint's  festival :  for  here  will  be  bloodshed  and  mortal 
strife,    shouts   of  victors   and  groans    of  the    dying, 
whizzing  of  arrows,  clang  of  armour,  clash  of  wea- 
pons, and  the  fearful  bray  of  trumpets,  which  alone 
would  blanch  thy  cheek.     Oh  !  'tis  a  perilous,  though 
a  gallant  sight ;  yet  much  danger  is  incurred  there- 

by." 

His  lively  portraiture  of  the  scene  only  made  me 
the  more  desirous  of  beholding  it,  and  still  did  I  per- 
sist in  mine  entreaties,  to  the  which  at  length  the 
Knight  gave  a  reluctant  consent,  "  Here,  then,  re- 
main," added  he,  "  for  the  King  will  leave  his  tents 
standing  when  he  marches  to  Redmoor  ;  and  from 
this  rising  ground  thou  mayestsee  the  fight  as  well  and 
securely  as  such  a  scene  may  ever  be  looked  upon." 

I  therefore,  took  my  stand  on  the  verge  of  the 
eminence  where  King  Richard's  camp  was  pitched, 
which  looked  towards  the  plain  of  Redmoor,  and 
marked  attentively  the  several  jjreparations  for  battle  ; 
though  Sir  Gilbert  De  IMountford  did  not  fail  to  re- 
peat that  my  purjiose  was  a  rash  one,  and  might 
terminate  in  evil.  Howbeit,  every  thing  which  I  saw 
and  heard  was  fitted  to  excite  the  ardour  of  a  soldier 


36  THK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

in  my  youthful  breast  ;  and  well, — so  at  least  did  my 
vanity  whisper  me, — did  mine  enkindling  spirit  prove 
at  that  moment,  that  I  was  not  unworthy  of  the  Plan- 
tagenet  race.     I  felt  their  lion-blood  was  bounding  in 
my  veins ;     and    could  I  have    given    vent  to  mine 
emotions,  it  would  have  been  in  bewailing  the  fortune 
which  forced  me  to  be  only  an  eye-witness  of  that 
well-foughten  field,  and  debarred  me  from  entering 
as  a  soldier  therein.     The  image  of  the   King  my 
father,  as  I  had  seen  him  on  the  past  night,  when  he 
owmed  me  for  his  son,  pale  and  melancholy  in  visage, 
and  decked  with  few  of  his  regalities,  was  full  deeply 
graven  upon  my  mind;  but  now  I  beheld  him  clad  in 
a  rich  armour  of  proof,  and  as  mine  eyes  anxiously 
followed  the  royal  banner  and  King  Richard's  person 
wherever  they  appeared  upon    the   plain,    I    fondly 
deemed,  when  the  sun  glanced  upon  his  burnished 
helmet  and  golden  coronal,  that  it  was  the  glorious 
light  of  victory  to  Plantagenet.     His   entire  harness 
was  of  steel  with  gilded  ornaments,  wrought  by  the 
choicest   armourers    of   IModena,   and  made  in  that 
rich  fashion  for  the  which  his   reign  was  so  famous  ; 
whilst  his  habit  was  so  complete  a  sheathing  to  his 
body,  that  he   stood  as  it  were  an  iron   man,  saving 
that  he  wore  his  velvet  tabard,  the  royal  ensigns  of 
which  w^ere  also  purfled  upon  the  caparisons  of  his 
charger.      He    wielded    a   long  and    powerful    two- 
handed  sword  having  a  red  pomel,  but  he  had  dyed 
the  blade  thereof  with  a  more  sanguine  stain,  in  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  37 

blood  of  his  foes ;  seeing  that,  like  the  scythe  of 
death,  it  swept  away  all  before  it. 

But  to  treat  of  the  Battle  in  order,  as  becometh  one 
that  saw  it  and  lost  therein  his  best  and  nearest 
friend,  I  should  begin  by  noting  that  the  morning 
came  on  with  a  heavy  mist,  which  passed  not  away 
until  nigh  ten  of  the  clock,  when  the  armies  joined 
battle ;  through  the  vapour  of  which,  when  they  were 
first  drawn  out,  the  one  overshot  the  other.  How- 
beit,  soon  after  four  in  the  morning,  Avhat  time  the 
sun  should  have  risen.  King  Richard  led  forth  all  his 
men  out  of  his  camp,  on  to  the  plain  of  Redmoor ; 
ordering  out  both  horse  and  foot  in  a  marvellous 
length,to  the  intent  that  they  should  imprint  upon  the 
hearts  of  them  that  looked  afar  off,  a  sudden  terror  and 
deadly  fear.  In  the  fore-front,  he  placed  the  archers, 
like  a  strong  trench  or  fortified  bulwark,  over  whom 
the  noble  John  Howard,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  was 
Captain,  with  his  brave  son,  Thomas,  Earl  of  Surrey  ; 
after  which  long  vaunt-guard,  followed  King  Rich- 
ard himself,  with  a  full  gallant  company  drawn  up  in 
a  perfect  square,  of  choice  and  approved  men  of  war, 
having  horsemen  with  spears,  for  wings,  on  both  sides 
of  his  battle.  The  King's  rear-ward  was  led  by  Sir 
Thomas  Brackenbury,  the  sum  of  it,  as  I  have  heard, 
being  a  thousand  bill-men  and  soldiers  armed  with 
heavy  mallets  and  sharp  axes. 

So  marched  they  forward  unto  Sutton-field,  where 
the  whole  army  mustered,  being  some  mile  South-east 


jl5?3C^2 


38  THE    LAST   OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

of  the  place  of  battle,  and  there  halted  before  Rich- 
mond had  crossed  the  marsh  on  his  right  hand,  which 
separated  them  ;  when,  lo  !  there  was  a  solemn  still- 
ness in  King  Richard's  power,  of  the  which  I  might  not 
well  know  the  cause.  Whereupon  I  turned  me  unto 
a  bill-man  who  stood  near  the  mound  where  I  was 
placed,  and  demanding  of  him  what  meant  that 
silence,  he  told  me  that  the  King  had  called  together 
his  leaders,  and  was  encouraging  them  in  many 
goodly  words  to  fight  stoutly  to  the  end  against  the 
traitors  and  renegades  which  had  come  out  against 
them.  Upon  that  I  felt  my  heart  burn  within  me  to 
hear  my  noble  sire  speak  unto  his  soldiers,  and  put 
mettle  into  their  hearts,  for  that  I  well  knew  he  had 
a  choice  and  copious  eloquence  ;  and  therefore,  re- 
gardless of  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford's  counsel,  I 
hastened  forward  to  the  spot  where  the  royal  army 
was  assembled.  From  the  speech  which  King  Rich- 
ard made  there,  the  little  hillock  where  he  stood  is 
called  "■  Dickon's  Nook"  unto  this  day  ;  but  I  reached 
it  in  time  to  hear  only  the  end  of  his  oration,  which 
he  gave  with  a  voice  of  thunder  and  an  eye  of  fire. 
"Advance !  then,"  exclaimed  he,  "  I  say  again,  for- 
ward, my  Captains  !  in  whom  lacketh  neither  policy, 
wisdom,  nor  puissance  ;  let  each  of  you  give  but  one 
brave  stroke  for  England  and  your  King,  and  St. 
George  to  speed,  the  day  is  surely  our's.  For  myself, 
by  the  might  of  God  and  his  Saints,  I  will  either 
triumpli  by  glorious  victory,  or  die  for  mine  immortal 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS.  39 

fame  ;  since  they  who  regard  not  that  renown  before 
their  fleeting  life,  shall  ever  live  with  scorn  and  fall 
with  foul  dishonour." 

As  he  concluded  the  soldiers  loudly  shouted,  yet 
were  they  not  all  true  unto  their  Sovereign ;  for 
Thomas  Lord  Stanley,  and  Sir  William,  his  brother, 
were  there,  with  all  their  men,  about  8000  in  number, 
who  soon  turnedand  fought  with  fierce  courage  against 
the  King.  At  this  time  also,  when  the  Earl  of  Rich- 
mond knew  that  the  royal  army  was  so  near  embat- 
tled, he  rode  about  his  own  ranks  speaking  many 
deceitful  and  glosing  words  unto  his  soldiers,  with 
wondrous  foul  sayings  against  Richard;  the  which 
he  had  scarcely  finished  when  the  one  army  came 
in  sight  of  the  other.  And  then.  Blessed  Virgin ! 
how  hastily  did  the  soldiers  buckle  their  helms,  how 
quickly  the  archers  bent  their  bows  and  frushed  their 
feathers,  to  make  them  ready  for  flight  like  the  wings 
of  death.  Then,  too,  how  readily  the  bill-men  shook 
their  bills  and  proved  their  staves,  to  march  and  join 
battle,  when  the  cry  should  be  given  "Advance  Stan- 
dards !" 

When  the  King  saw  that  Richmond's  power  had 
passed  the  marsh,  he  commanded  with  all  speed  to 
set  upon  them ;  and  then  heard  I  the  terrible  blast 
of  the  trumpets,  which  as  it  were  bade  them  to 
the  feast  of  blood,  with  the  loud  shouting  of  the  sol- 
diers, and  the  snorting  of  the  chargers.  Anon  the 
King's  archers  let  fly  a  cloud  of  shafts,  and  all  the  air 


40  THK    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

around  was  darkened ;  and  wlien  the  bowmen  on 
either  side  had  spent  all  their  arrows,  and  the  bom- 
bards and  harquebushes  had  been  many  times  shot  off, 
then  the  battle  joined,  and  all  came  to  hand-strokes  of 
sword,  bill,  and  battle-axe,  and  bloody  I  trow  was 
that  onset.  Full  many  a  soldier,  whom  but  the 
moment  before,  I  had  seen,  as  the  holy  text  saith, 
"  like  the  war-horse  rejoicing  in  his  strength,"  was 
eftsoons  overthrown,  and  his  towering  crest  trampled 
under  foot  all  sullied  and  dishonoured.  But  now, 
whilst  I  was  thus  anxiously  watching  the  fight,  I  sud- 
denly saw  two  large  and  heavy  bodies  of  armed  men 
put  in  motion,  one  on  the  King's  right  hand  and  the 
other  on  his  left ;  and  I  said  unto  a  wounded  bow- 
man who  had  crawled  unto  the  place  where  I  stood, 
which  was  now  very  near  the  field  of  battle,  "  Tell  me, 
soldier,  be  not  these  the  King's  friends  ?  whence,  then, 
do  they  come,  and  why  have  they  lingered  thus  .''" 

"  Now  God  be  praised,"  replied  the  Archer,  raising 
himself  and  looking  on  the  leaders'  pennons,  "  they 
are  the  power  of  the  Stanleys,  which  Avill  past  ques- 
tion give  our  royal  master  the  victory;"  and  he  pointed 
out  to  me  their  white  banners,  bearing  three  golden 
stags'  heads  upon  a  bend  of  blue.  Howbeit,  in  the 
midst  of  our  hope  and  rejoicing,  a  deafening  shout 
arose  from  Richmond's  army ;  denoting,  as  I  was  told, 
the  treacherous  going  over  of  the  Stanleys  thereunto, 
with  all  their  followers.  I  was  much  dismayed  at 
these  tidings,  and   greatly   feared    the    issue    of  the 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  41 

battle;  and  the  more  so  by  reason  of  my  former  expec- 
tations of  King  Richard's  triumph.  I  remember  not 
at  what  hour  of  the  day  it  might  be, — perchance  it 
wanted  not  much  of  noon, — but  about  this  stage  of  the 
fight  I  left  my  stand,  and  wandered  down  into  the 
battle-field.  Perceiving  at  some  distance  a  company 
of  horsemen  who  appeared  to  have  been  separated  from 
the  main  body,  I  liastened  towards  them,  seeing  that 
they  were  clad  in  white  coats  and  hoods  of  frieze,  the 
common  livery  of  all  the  soldiers.  He,  however,  who 
seemed  to  be  chief  of  the  party,  I  knew  not,  but  he 
appeared  a  tall  and  fair  young  man  with  a  grave  coun- 
tenance, yellow  hair,  and  grey  eyes,  and  clothed  in  a 
wondrous  rich  harness ;  whilst  beside  him  rode  a 
brave-looking  Knight,  who  bore  a  green  and  white 
banner  with  a  red  dragon. 

The  hour  was  now  come  which  God  had  appointed, 
when  by  drawing  thus  near  unto  the  enemy, — these 
warriors  being  none  other  than  Richmond  and  his 
friends, — that  I  should  behold  the  fell  of  the  valiant 
King  Richard  ;  his  bravest  leaders,  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk and  his  son,  having  been  stretched  lifeless  on  the 
field  already.  Only  a  brief  space  had  elapsed,  when 
I  saw  the  King  with  some  few  of  his  best  followers, 
who,  alas !  did  not  know  that  they  were  going  with 
him  unto  death, — riding  with  great  fury  towards  the 
spot  to  which  I  had  heedlessly  wandered.  He  seemed 
inflamed  with  wrath,  and  came  on,  crying  "  Treason  ! 
Treason  !"   with    spear   in  rest,  like    an   angry   lion 


42  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

against  his  adversary ;  and  oft-times  when  I  have 
mused  upon  this  scene,  have  I  demanded  of  myself  in 
the  words  of  the  most  choice  Poet  Horatius  : 

"  Quis  martem  digne  scripserit  ?" 

And  who,  indeed,  shall  worthily  write  of  his  gallant 
bearing  in  that  day  ?  or  what  lay  of  JMinstrel  or  what . 
music  of  Harper,  shall  truly  laud  his  achievements 
and  more  than  mortal  prowess  ?  for  the  which  even  his 
enemies,  amidst  all  their  foul  calumnies,  have  never 
dared  to  deny  him  renown.  As,  therefore,  an  over- 
whelming torrent  runs  foaming  with  wild  roar  over 
opposing  rocks,  and  pours  onward  with  impetuous 
fury  unto  the  sea,  so  did  the  King  pursue  his  most  re- 
sistless course.  He  soon  laid  aside  his  spear,  and  took 
again  his  fearful  two-handed  sword ;  with  which  at 
one  blow  he  cleft  the  head  of  Sir  William  Brandon, 
who  was  the  first  foe  he  met  in  his  progress.  He  was 
the  Standard-bearer  of  Harry  Richmond,  but  soon  he 
lay  stretched  upon  the  plain  ;  and  the  banner  which 
only  a  few  moments  before  he  had  waved  so  proudly, 
the  King  now  contemptuously  cast  vipon  his  bloody 
corse.  Then  stood  forth  that  puissant  Knight,  Sir 
John  Cheney,  whom  the  Earl  held  in  special  regard, 
not  only  because  of  his  martial  prowess,  but  also  for 
his  bodily  strength,  which  was  passing  great ;  but  he, 
too,  was  eftsoons  unhorsed  by  the  King,  who  now  made 
an  open  yet  bloody  passage  with  his  devouring  sword, 
as  he  pressed  onward  to  his  chiefest  adversary.  Fearful, 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  43 

indeed,  was  his  onset  towai'ds  Richmond,  and  might 
well  have  daunted  a  braver  man  :  yet  why  came  he 
not  forth  in  willing  mood  to  battle  for  the  crown,  and 
encounter  his  royal  foe  in  mortal  fray  ?  Wherefore 
did  he  gather  his  power  around  him  ?  but  that  his 
coward  fears  prevailed — and   he    moved   not. 

For  some  space  of  time,  however,  the  Earl  withstood 
him  and  kept  him  at  the  swoi'd's  point;  but  I  full 
soon  perceived  that  it  was  not  in  eqvial  combat,  that  the 
noble  Richard  was  either  to  triumph  or  to  die ;  for  to 
sum  up  the  treachery  of  "  those  of  his  own  house- 
hold," of  which  the  holy  Prophet  well  speaketh.  Sir 
William  Stanley  brought  up  his  power  of  full  3000 
men  to  the  aid  of  Harry  Tvidor.  Howbeit,  some  ten 
years  after  his  disloyalty  had  it's  reward;  since  he  was 
beheaded  by  command  of  the  very  one  whose  life  he 
had  now  saved,  and  whom,  in  truth,  he  had  advanced 
unto  a  throne.*  These  recreant  slaves  now  gathered 
round  Richard,  and  he  was  fiercely  assailed  on  every 
side  ;  but  though  Sir  William  Catesby,  who  saw  Stan- 
ley's revolt,  brought  the  King  another  horse,  and  be- 
sought him  to  retire, — which,  from  pressure  of  num- 
bers, he  might  have  done  with  honour, — yet  with  an 


*  Sir  William  Stanley  was  beheaded  on  February  HJtli,  14t)5, 
on  the  charge  of  secretly  aiding  Perkin  Warbeck,  the  fictitious 
Duke  of  York ;  the  principal  evidence  against  him  being  his 
having  said,  "  Were  I  sure  ho  was  the  son  of  Edward  the 
Fourth,  I  would  never  draw  my  sword  against  him." 


44  TIIK    LAST    OK    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

angry  look,  he  called  for  a  fresh  weapon,  and  sware 
by  Him  that  shaped  sea  and  land  that  he  would  that 
day  die  King  of  England,  and  not  fly  whilst  life  should 
abide  in  his  breast.  So  continued  he  in  fight,  till  all 
the  friends  who  had  followed  him  had  either  fallen  or 
fled ;  for  Sir  Robert  Brackenbury,  Sir  Gervase  Clifton, 
Sir  Richard  Ratcliffe,  Sir  William  Conyers,  Walter 
Lord  Ferrers,  and  divers  others,  lay  dead  around  him . 
Indignant,  and  almost  frenzied  at  this  sight,  I  now 
rushed  forward,  all  unarmed  and  powerless  as  I  was, 
to  the  rescue  of  my  sire,  and  forgetful  of  danger  threw 
myself  into  the  midst  of  the  strife  !  How  it  was  my 
fortune  to  escape  therefrom,  without  being  mortally 
stricken  in  that  hour  of  battle  and  of  blood,  when 
blows  were  rained  around  me  on  every  side,  by  hands 
and  weapons  which  were  not  wont  to  strike  twice  for 
the  overthrow  of  any  foeman ; — how,  I  say,  I  did 
then  escape  with  life.  He,  whose  "  Name  is  Wonder- 
ful," alone  doth  know  ! 

Yet  it  nevertheless  did  so  fall  out,  that  unliurt  my- 
self, I  advanced  into  that  most  fearful  battle  ;  which 
hath  oft-times  since  brought  unto  my  mind  the  saying 
of  holy  David,  "  a  thousand  shall  fall  beside  thee,  and 
ten  thousand  at  thy  right  hand  ;  but  it  shall  not  come 
nigh  thee."  In  the  hottest  fight,  then,  whilst  gazing 
wildly  around  me,  I  beheld  my  martial  sire  still 
waging  the  unequal  strife.  The  blood  was  streaming 
from  his  wounds,  his  strength  seemed  already  passing 
away,  and  his  battered  casque  and  crown  had  fallen 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS.  45 

from  his  head, — when  a  blow  from  a  ponderous  iron 
battle-axe  struck  him  from  his  horse.  I  now  sprang 
forward  to  his  side,  and  seizing  a  helmet  lying  near, 
filled  it  with  water  from  that  most  honoured  Well  of 
the  which  I  have  elsewhere  spoken,  and  of  which  I 
had  before  seen  him  drink, — and  bare  it  unto  him  to 
wash  his  wounds  and  quench  the  heat  of  his  death- 
thirst.  He  hastily  took  it  and  drank  thereof,  and 
then  piously  looking  upwards  and  devoutly  crossing 
himself,  fell  backwards  with  the  wounded  and  the 
slain;  yet  as  lie  did  so,  methought  his  dying  eyes  rested 
on  me  with  yjity  and  alarm  at  my  presence,  in  a  place 
and  hour  of  so  great  hazard. 

From  that  moment  I  saw  and  heard  no  more,  being 
first  suddenly  stricken  down  and  wounded  by  a  spent 
shaft,  and  afterwards  overborne  by  the  crowd  of 
soldiers  whicli  rushed  upon  the  dying  Richard,  as  it 
hath  since  been  told  me,  to  seize  upon  the  coronet 
which  he  wore  around  his  helmet.  For  he  was  the 
only  English  Sovereign  since  the  Norman  entered  this 
land,  who  fell  upon  the  battle-field  ;  and  the  second 
who  fought  with  the  crown  upon  his  head,  as  did 
King  Henry  V.  at  Agincourt.  And  here  Ave  may 
again  note  his  valour,  for  the  regal  circlet,  however 
fair  and  glorious,  is  the  surest  mark  for  the  wearer's 
destruction;  but  Richard  wore  it  to  put  mettle  into  his 
soldiers'  hearts  and  arms,  and  to  remind  them  that  the 
fate  of  a  King  and  his  realm  was  on  that  day  to  be  in- 
trusted to  their  weapons.      Ho^vbeit,  in  the  last  fiery 


46  THR    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGKNKTS. 

struggle  of  tlie  life  of  my   gallant  father,   the  crown 
fell  from  his  liead,  and  was  hidden  by  a  soldier  within 
a  bush  on  the  field ;  Avhence,  after  the  battle.  Sir  Re- 
ginald Bray  brought  it  unto  the  recreant  Lord  Stan- 
ley, who  set  it  on  the  head  of  Harry  Tudor.     The 
inconstant  soldiery  then  shouted  for  their  new  King, 
and  a  broad  mound  some  mile  to  the  South-west  of  the 
battle-plain,  yet  marks  the  place  of  their  triumjjh  by 
being  called  Crown-Hill  and  Hollow- IVIeadow.     Rich- 
mond, too,  in  that  beauteous,  yet  vain-glorious,  tomb 
which  hath  since  been  built  for  him  at  Westminster, 
hath  recorded  this  rustic  coronation,  by  erecting  there 
the  device  of  a  crown  standing  in  a  bush  of  hawthorn. 
In  the  mean  space.  King  Richard's  body  was  found 
upon  the  plain,  covered  with  dust,  blood,  and  wounds, 
and  despiteful ly  stripped  of  all  it's  harness  and  rai- 
ment ;  so  that  he,  who  whilst  living  was  clad  in  pur- 
ple and   pall,   fair  ermines  and  velvet  of  the  Orient, 
who  had  a  crown  upon  his  head  and  the  baton  of  com- 
mand in  his  hand  ; — when  dead  had  not  aught  to  hide 
his  royal  corse  from  the  jeers  and  gazings  of  the  ru- 
dest of  his  realm  !     But  yet,   whilst  I  am  noting  this 
most  melancholy  truth,  I  may  not  forget  to  set  down 
what  was   told   unto  me   of  the  loyalty  and   faith  of 
William   St.  Leger,   King    Richard's   Pursuivant-of- 
Arms,  called  Blanc-Sanglier,  or  the  White  Boar,  in 
memory    of  his  noble  device.     For,  at  his  royal   co- 
ronation at  Westminster,  by  Thomas  Bourchier,  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  on  Sunday,  the  6th  day  of 


THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  47 

July,  1483, — but  two  little  years  before  his  sorrowful 
death, — he  caused  13,000  badges  of  Boars  to  be 
wrought  in  silver  upon  fustian,  and  given  to  his  fol- 
lowers, whilst  he  'stablished  this  Pursuivant,  whose 
tabard  was  purfled  with  the  like,  to  keep  the  same  in 
memory.  Master  St.  Leger  was  of  the  house,  though 
not  of  the  counsel,  of  that  Sir  Thomas  St.  Leger,  who 
had  married  King  Richard's  sister^,  the  Duchess  of 
Exeter  ;  though  he  joined  the  ti-aitorous  Duke  of 
Buckingham  in  his  rebellion,  and  so  was  beheaded. 
Howbeit,  the  Pursuivant  was  one  of  greater  honour 
and  truth,  for  as  he  worthily  adhered  unto  his  Lord 
whilst  living,  so  neither  would  he  forsake  him  when 
dead ;  but  when  he  first  saw  his  bloody  and  naked 
corse,  all  unheeding  of  his  own  danger,  he  took  off 
his  Herald's  coat-of-arms,  and  casting  it  on  the  body 
of  his  forsaken  master,  he  said  :  "  Alas  for  thee  !  King 
Richard !  now  liest  thou  there,  naked,  and  dead,  and 
deserted ;  albeit  I  dare  well  say  of  thee  that  thou 
wertonce  a  right  wise  and  valiant  Sovereign.  Where- 
fore the  coat  of  thine  arms  Avhich  thou  gavest  me  in 
thy  life-time,  I  do  now  give  unto  thee  back  again,  to 
be  a  winding-sheet  unto  thy  well-wounded  body,  as 
becometh  one  who  did  ever  love  the  voice  of  the 
Herald,  and  one  who  was  as  stout  a  soldier  as  ever  be- 
strode steed  in  battle.  Henceforth  will  I  wear  tabard 
no  more,  nor  be  Pursuivant  unto  mortal  man ;  for 
with  thee,  I  wot,  shall  the  name  of  Blanc-SaugVicr 
pass  away  and  be  forgotten,  but  I  will  take  none  other 


48  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS. 

name,  and  how  me  to  none  other  lord.  And  so.  Fare 
thee  well,  good  King  Richard !  may  God  give  rest 
unto  thy  soul,  and  Christ  save  thee  in  the  Day  of 
Doom!" 

And  as  this  faithful  Pursuivant  said,  so  it  proved  : 
for  after  the  death  of  King  Richard,  it  was  as  if  men 
wished  his  memory  to  be  altogether  blotted  out  and 
buried  with  his  body,  for  his  device  of  the  Silver  Boar 
was  defaced  or  plucked  down  in  every  place  where 
it  had  been  reared  ;  and  the  honourable  office  of  Blauc- 
Sanglier  changed  into  another  called  Rouge-Dragon, 
in  memory  of  the  Standard  of  Harry  Tudor.  Nay, 
yet  farther  to  dishonour  the  dead  Sovereign  and  his 
constant  living  follower,  that  most  loyal  Herald  was 
enforced, — even  upon  the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  bat- 
tle,— to  carry  King  Richard's  body  to  Leicester,  un- 
covered and  tied  with  cords  across  a  horse,  he  sitting 
l)ehind  it ;  but  this  he  did  gladly,  seeing  that  all  men 
should  thus  note  his  fidelity,  though  he  wept  many 
bitter  tears  upon  his  mournful  journey.  After  that 
most  dear  and  misused  corse  had  been  for  two  days 
exposed  in  the  Town-hall  to  the  basest  groom  and  ru- 
dest hind  which  would  look  upon  it,  it  was  meanly, 
and  with  but  few  holy  rites,  sepultured  in  the  Grey- 
Friars'  Church  ;  where  the  usurping  victor  at  length 
caused  to  be  set  up  a  tomb  of  divers-coloured  marbles 
with  an  alabaster  effigy, — albeit  he  afterward  made  his 
ownof  brass,  most  wondrously  and  choicely  wrought. 
For  this  monument,  all  unworthy  of  so  great  a  King 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  49 

as  Richard  Plantagenet,  some   unknown  pen  had  also 
destined  an  untrue  and  as  unworthy  an  epitapli  in  La- 
tin verse  ;  the  copy  whereof,  though  never  affixed  unto 
the  stone,  I  remember  to  have  seen  written  in  a  book 
chained  unto  a  table,  in  a  chamber  of  the  Guildhall  at 
London.     Howbeit,  the  tomb  of  my  sire   stood   but 
little  more  than  fifty  years  ;    since   in  that  fierce  tide 
of  spoliation   which  hath   of  late  swept  through  the 
realm  under  the  wild  misrule  of  Harry  Tudor's  son, 
the  Grey  Friars  of  Leicester  were  expulsed  from  their 
dwelling,   their  conventual  church    was  overthrown, 
and  the  tomb  of  King  Richard  so  defaced,  that  the 
spot  whereon  he  rested  might  be   distinguished  no 
longer. 

But  now  to  return  again,  and  briefly  close  up  an- 
other scene  of  my  own  sad  story.  When  I  saw  my 
sire  fall  upon  the  field  of  Bosworth  ;  when  I  marked 
the  dying  look  of  sorrow,  love,  and  pity,  which  he 
then  cast  upon  me ;  and  when  I  was  overthrown  by 
the  shaft,  and  press  of  the  battle  ; — my  strength  and 
senses  at  once  bowed  under  me,  and  I  sank  powerless 
upon  the  ground,  as  if  [  also  had  been  one  of  the 
slain. 


£ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    DWELLING   OF    AN    OUTCAST    OF    ISRAEL. 

Our  firstd  foe,  the  Serpent  Sathanas, 

That  hath  in  Jewi-s  heart  his  wasp6s  nest, 

Up  swale,  and  said  "  O  Ebraike  people,  alas  ! 
Is  this  to  you  a  thing  that  is  honest  ? 

That  swiche  a  boy  shall  walken  as  him  leste 
In  your  despite." 

From  thennesforth  the  Jewes  han  conspired 
This  innocent  out  of  this  world  to  chase. 

Chaucer's  Prioress's  Tale. 

"  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !"  echoed  Rabbi  Mcir,  "  and  blessed  be 
His  name  for  thy  sake  too  I  for  well  is  it  written  •  He  that  has  found  a  virtuous 
woman  has  a  greater  treasure  than  costly  pearls.  She  openeth  her  mouth 
with  wisdom,  and  on  her  tongue  is  the  instruction  of  kindness.' " 

HuRwiTz's  Hebrew  Tales. 

I  KNOW  not  how  long  I  lay  so  entranced  upon  the 
plain  of  battle,  but  when  my  senses  returned,  I  found 
me  stretched  upon  a  narrow  and  slender  straw  pallet, 
in  a  low  and  obscure  vaulted  chamber  of  stone^  from 
the  top  whereof  was  suspended  a  little  brazen  lamp. 
By  this  light  I  beheld  a  tall  old  man,  with  a  flowing 
beard  of  a  sable  silvery  hue,  dark  piercing  eyes,  and 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  51 

a  thin  sallow  visage   of  a  foreign  look,  on  the  which 
care  seemed  to  have  written  many  deep  characters, — 
standing  beside  my  poor  couch  ;  habited  in  a  long  ga- 
berdine of  coarse  black  frieze,  marked  on  the  breast 
by  two  narrow  woollen  tablets  of  different  colours. 
He  was  at  first  bending  silently  over  me  with  a  grave 
and  sorrowful  countenance,  whereon  methought  I  saw 
the  trace  of  tears,   and  then  I   deemed  he  might  be 
some  compassionate  leech ;    but,  as  I  recovered,   his 
face  seemed  anon  to  be  enlightened  with  an  evil  glad- 
ness, as  if  the  Fiend  had  suddenly  whispered  some 
dark,   though  joyous  thought  unto  his  heart,  and  he 
cast  upon  me  a  look   of  exulting  malice.     Full  many 
were  the  dread  imaginings  and  remembrances  which 
now  rushed  across  my  returning  sense ;  but  my  sor- 
rowful recollections  of  the  late   fatal  battle,  and  the 
hapless  death  of  my  royal  father,   together  with  the 
pain  and  smarting  of  my  wounds,  and  even  the  grief 
which   weighed  down   my   spirit, — all   seemed  light 
unto  the  horror  I  felt  upon  finding  me  in  the  power 
of  one,  who  might  be  an  outlaw,  a  robber,  or  a  mur- 
therer.     For  escape,  I  soon  discovered  that  it  was  im- 
possible, even  had  my  strength  been  equal  thereunto  ; 
for  the  narrow  arched  portal  and  winding  stairs  which 
led  to  the  chamber  wherein  I  lay,  were  closed  up  by 
a  heavy  oaken  door,  provided  with  a  massive  lock  and 
bolt  of  iron. 

As  these  things   flitted,   like  some  foul  vision,   full 
swiftly   before  my  disordered   senses  and  beclouded 


52  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

eyes,  T  lay  in  great  fear  and  consternation,  scared  at 
the  form  and  visage  of  him  who  was  bending  over 
me.  He  seemed  unto  mine  aftViglited  fancy,  like  an 
evil  niglit-spirit  which  chained  up  all  my  powers  of 
moving  with  stifling  oppression  ;  for  when  I  attempt- 
ed to  stir  me,  I  found  myself  wholly  incapable  thereof, 
partly,  indeed,  from  my  hurts  in  the  battle,  but  still 
more  so  from  the  terrors  awakened  by  that  which  I 
saw  aroimd  me.  I  did  then  strive  to  call  for  aid,  but 
my  tongue  clave  unto  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  and  I 
could  utter  little  more  than  a  faint  cry,  and  sink  down 
again  as  if  into  a  heavy  slumber ;  though  w  hilst  my 
voice  thus  refused  me  it's  office,  mine  eyes  and  ears 
seemed  to  perform  their's  with  a  tenfold  power.  I 
saw  and  heard  all  things  with  wondrous  intenseness ; 
from  the  harsh  foreign  voice  of  the  man  who  stood 
beside  me,  which  sounded  like  the  knell  of  my  de- 
parting spirit,  to  the  quick  and  heavy  throbbings 
which  seemed  tearing  in  sunder  mine  aching  and  fe- 
vered brain.  Howbeit,  the  cry  I  had  uttered,  caused 
another  person  hastily  to  enter  the  chamber;  the 
which  I  discerned  to  be  an  aged  woman,  habited  in 
somewhat  of  an  Eastern  garb,  whose  sallow  and 
sunken  visage  did  express  much  sorrow,  blended 
with  great  pity  and  piety.  She  started  as  she  enter- 
ed, without  doubt  at  the  fearful  glances  with  which 
the  old  man  was  viewing  me  as  he  bent  over  my  bed, 
and  she  exclaimed  "  Wherefore  was  that  cry.  Rabbi 
Israel  ?  and  what  is  that  youth  beside  thee  .^  hath  his 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  53 

spirit  departed  ?  or  why  dost  thou  look  so  wildly 
upon  him  ?" 

"  Nay,  he  is  not  yet  dead,  Naomi,"  returned  the 
man,  retiring  with  her  from  my  couch,  behind  a 
screen  of  tapestry  whence  I  might  overhear  all  their 
discourse,  "  the  Angel  of  Death  has  not  yet  summoned 
him,  though  peradventure  he  soon  may.  God  of  my 
Fathers  !"  he  exclaimed  in  an  exulting  voice,  "  when 
hath  the  Avord  of  Thy  promise  failed  unto  Thy  peo- 
ple ?  for,  lo !  the  hour  of  vengeance,  which  hath 
been  hidden  in  mine  heart,  hath  at  length  arrived;  and 
Thou  hast  provided  an  offering  for  innocent  blood,  as 
Thou  gavest  the  ram  unto  thy  servant  Abraham 
in  Moriah,  that  he  might  slay  him  instead  of  his 
son." 

"Alas!"  replied  Naomi  in  a  gentle  voice,  "what 
meanest  thou  by  this  ?" 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  sayest  thou,"  returned  the 
Rabbi  in  a  fierce  tone,  "  are  then  the  captivity  of  thy 
people,  and  the  death  of  thy  son,  forgotten  by  thee 
like  a  dream  of  the  night  ?  Are  not  we  bereaved  both 
of  our  home  and  of  our  child  ?  our  feet  made  weary 
with  Avandering,  and  our  hearts  sorrowful  with  weep- 
ing, by  the  persecutions  of  the  Gentiles,  and  shall  we 
not  rejoice  to  return  it  fourfold  upon  the  heads  of  our 
oppressors  ?" 

"  Nay,  Rabbi  Israel,  nay,"  answered  Naomi,  with 
tranquil  speech,  "that  may  not  be;  seeing  that  it 
was  written  by  him,   who,   at  the   command  of  God 


54  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAOENETS. 

led  US  forth  out  of  Egypt, — even  in  the  last  divine 
song  which  he  spake  upon  earth,  '  To  Me  belongeth 
vengeance  and  recompense ;  their  foot  shall  slide  in 
due  time,  for  the  day  of  their  calamity  is  at  hand,  and 
the  things  that  shall  come  upon  them  make  haste. 
For  the  Lord  shall  judge  His  people,  and  repent  Him- 
self for  His  servants,  when  He  seeth  that  their  power 
is  gone  !' " 

"  Yet  the  time  of  Israel's  deliverance  hath  not 
come,"  returned  the  Rabbi,  "we  look  in  vain  for 
'  Him  whose  Name  is  the  Rising,'  and  pray  for  Him  in 
vain  towards  our  desolated  Temple :  yet  as  if  it  were 
not  enough  for  the  chosen  people  of  the  Most  High, 
to  be  forced  to  wander  far  from  the  Land  of  Canaan, 
eating  the  bread  of  bitterness  and  drinking  the  waters 
of  affliction, — the  crescent-ensign  of  the  lying  Pro- 
phet, rises  Avith  baneful  glare  over  the  towers  of  the 
Holy  City,  flouting  the  goodly  heritage  that  was  once 
our  own.  And  when,  chased  like  the  partridge  on 
the  mountain,  we  betake  us  for  shelter  to  the  nations 
of  the  West,  what  is  it  but  to  encounter  the  like  per- 
secution, desolation,  or  death  ?  Yea,  bloody  alike  unto 
us  are  the  crescent  and  the  cross ;  and  to  the  out- 
casts of  Israel,  the  monks  and  the  moussoulmans  are 
alike  brethren  in  cruelty." 

"  Thou  hast  spoken  truly.  Rabbi,"  replied  Naomi, 
"  as  our  father  Joseph  said,  their  anger  is  fierce,  and 
their  hatred  is  cruel.  But  now  let  us  leave  to  speak  of 
them : — thou  hast  not  yet  toldme  who  that  stripling  is." 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGBNETS.  55 

"  One,"  answered  the  Rabbi,  "  whom  I  brought 
erewhile  from  the  field  of  battle  near  this  place,  for 
the  children  of  this  accursed  land  are  divided  against 
themselves,  and  are  even  now  devouring-  each  other  ; 
and  therefore,  we  can  scarcely  marvel  that  they  are 
foes  to  the  despised  sons  of  Israel. — I  had  borne  up 
under  all  the  heavy  woes  which  are  now  common  to 
our  abandoned  race,  in  a  strange  land ;  but  here  have 
I  found  the  arrows  of  persecution  stick  the  deepest, 
since  this  people  hath  received  us  only  to  pour 
greater  misery  upon  our  heads,  and  have  trodden 
down  the  grey  hairs  of  the  parents  to  dip  their  hands 
in  the  blood  of  their  offspring,  whilst  our  tears  only 
ministered  sport  unto  the  scorner  !" 

"I  remember  it  but  too  well,"  responded  Naomi, 
weeping,  "  Benoni,  the  son  of  our  sorrows,  but  yet 
our  pleasant  son,  was  indeed  stoned  before  our  eyes 
by  a  lawless  multitude  on  the  Fast  of  Miriam,  when 
we  were  about  to  make  ready  for  the  Passover.  Oh  ! 
my  son,  Benoni !  my  son,  my  son,  Benoni ! 

"  It  was  verily  so,"  answered  the  Rabbi,  "  and  for 
that  he  was  only  a  Jew,  there  hath  been  no  inquisition 
of  blood  made  for  him.  But  said  I  not  that  vengeance 
would  at  length  come,  though  it  should  tarry  long  ? 
and  behold  the  hour  hath  now  arrived."  He  then  con- 
tinued with  a  glance  of  malicious  exultation,  and  in  a 
low  and  fearful  voice,  drawing  the  gentle  Naomi 
towards  my  couch,  and  pointing  to  me  who  now  lay 
with  the  semblance  of  sleep, — ''  Seest  thou  that  young 


5(5  TlIK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

Christian^  whom  I  have  brought  hither? — his  look 
and  bearing  bespeak  him  of  gentle  birth, — thou  know- 
est  that  our  Law  saith  '  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth  !' — the  solitude  of  this  place  invites  us  to 
the  sacrifice ;  let  him  die  the  death  !  for  God  do  so 
unto  me,  and  more  also,  if  I  would  not  even  now 
avenge  our  child's  murther  upon  the  life  of  that  sleep- 
ing gentile  !" 

"  Upon  his  life  !  saidst  thou  ?  God  of  Jacob  protect 
thee  from  the  Evil  One  !"  exclaimed  Naomi,  clinging 
to  his  garment  in  an  agony  of  fear,  "nay.  Rabbi  Israel, 
nay,  that  may  not  be  ;  for  our  most  holy  Law  doth  also 
say  '  thou  shalt  not  kill'  !  He  shall  indeed  die,  as  thou 
sayest,  but  at  his  appointed  time  when  the  Angel  of 
Death  shall  call  him,  and  not  by  thy  hand ;  since 
thou  canst  not  thus  bring  back  again  our  Benoni  unto 
our  bosoms,  but  will  rather  stain  our  souls  so  deeply, 
that  we  shall  never  live  w  ith  him  in  Paradise." 

"  What  then  !"  exclaimed  the  Jew  fiercely,  "  shall 
a  bereaved  father  shrink  from  becoming  the  avenger 
of  his  child's  blood  ?  let  me  no  longer,  woman,  for,  as 
the  Lord  liveth  !  this  offering  shall  eftsoons  be  made, 
since  He  hath  said  '  whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by 
man  shall  his  blood  be  shed !'  " 

"  True,  Oh  my  beloved  Israel  !"  responded  the 
virtuous  Naomi,  hanging  upon  the  Jew  as  she  spake, 
"  yet  not  the  innocent  for  the  guilty,  lest  his  blood 
should  rest  upon  us,  and  hereafter  be  required  at  our 
hands."     Then,  seeing  that  he  still  remained  unshaken 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  57 

in  his  evil  purpose,  she  turned  aside,  and  in  a  voice  of 
sorrow,  with  many  tears,  she  said,  "  Alas  for  my  son  ! 
alas  for  my  Benoni,  my  child  !  Avhere  is  he  now  ?  in 
the  bosom  of  our  Father  Abraham,  and  the  blessed 
Paradise  of  God  ? — Ah  !  no  ! — or  Rabbi  Israel,  the 
devout  servant  of  the  Lord, — who  hath  never  forgotten 
the  Shemonch  Esreh,  or  the  Kiriath  Shema*  or  to  bless 
liis  God  full  three  hundred  times  each  day  ;  who  fast- 
eth  and  prays  with  his  face  unto  Jerusalem  ;  and  who 
hath  often,  like  our  Father  Tobias,  left  his  meat  to 
bury  the  dead, — he  would  never  have  devised  such 
evil  in  his  heart,  as  to  think  of  avenging  our  innocent 
son,  by  so  wicked  a  sacrifice  !  Or  can  our  child  have 
indeed  put  off  his  innocency  ?  that  his  once-pious 
father  deems  him  now  to  be  another  Moloch,  whose 
wrath  can  be  turned  aside  only  by  the  dying  groans 
of  the  young,  and  by  pouring  out  before  him  the 
blood  of  the  little  ones  !"' 


*  The  Shemoneh  Esreh,  or  Eighteen  prayers,  are  some  of  the 
most  solemn  and  important  of  the  Jewish  rites ;  and  should 
be  used  thrice  daily  by  all  Israelites  who  are  of  age.  They 
form  a  kind  of  litany,  each  prayer  including  a  benediction  ; 
and  are  said  to  have  been  composed  and  instituted  by  Ezra, 
and  the  members  of  the  Great  Synagogue,  a  little  before  the  de- 
struction  of  the  second  Temple.  The  Kiriath  Shema,  or  read- 
ing of  certain  portions  of  the  Law,  is  also  another  very  im- 
portant  part  of  the  daily  devotions  ;  and  as  there  arc  benedic- 
tions provided  for  almost  every  action  or  event  of  life,  the 
members  of  the  Synagogue  are  required  to  repeat  at  least  au 
hundred  blessings  every  day. 


58  THE    IvAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

The  aged  Israelite  now  stood  affected  and  irreso- 
lute, whilst  Naomi  paused  and  uttered  a  half-sup- 
pressed sigh  ;  after  which  she  laid  her  hand  in  a 
gentle  supplicating  manner  upon  her  partner's  shoul- 
der, and  continued  thus  in  a  voice  of  tenderness,  and 
consoled  sorrow. 

"  Our  son,  indeed,  rests  calmly  in  the  silent  grave 
where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  ;  and  his 
spirit  is  in  truth  not  crying  from  the  ground  for  blood, 
but  is  rather  breathing  vipon  his  sorrowing  parents, 
the  holy  quiet  of  the  heaven  wherein  he  dwells. 
Tliou  knowest,  my  beloved  spouse,  that  with  us  life 
is  already  running  upon  the  lees,  and  I  pray  thee  let 
not  it's  remaining  hours  be  embittered  by  self-reproach 
and  late  remorse  ;  since  it  were  pity  that  our  recol- 
lections of  the  past,  sad,  indeed,  though  they  be, 
should  now  be  overshadowed  with  the  dark  whispers 
of  the  Evil  One.  IMethinks,  Rabbi,"  added  she,  "  that 
this  youth  is  not  much  unlike  our  own ;  and  from 
his  looks  he  should  be  somewhat  of  the  same  age." 

"  If  then,"  replied  Israel  sternly,  as  though  again 
awakened  to  hatred,  "  the  living  semblance  of  this 
stripling  be  thus  strong,  death  will  complete  it !" 

"  The  Lord  rebuke  thee,  O  Satan  !"  exclaimed 
Naomi  in  a  bolder  and  louder  voice  than  she  had  yet 
uttered,  at  the  same  time  laying  a  stout  hold  upon  the 
Jew,  "  as  the  holy  Prophet  saith,  '  the  Lord  rebuke 
thee  !  even  the  Lord  who  hath  chosen  Jerusalem  ;'  is 
not  this  child  brought  from  the  battle,  indeed  a  brand 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  59 

plucked  out  of  the  fire  ?  Rabbi,  thou  knowest  well 
there  was  a  Voice  which  said,  '  I  desired  mercy  and 
not  sacrifice ;'  and  doubt  not  that  at  this  moment  there 
be  hearts  beating  with  anxiety  and  fear  for  the  safety 
of  this  youth,  and  that  his  Mashed*  in  Heaven  is 
watching  over  him  to  protect  him." 

"  Yet  our  own  son — "  responded  the  Rabbi — 
"  Fell  by  the  hands  of  a  strange  people  who  shall 
answer  for  their  sin,"  interrupted  Naomi,  "  Oh  my 
Israel  !  be  this  evil  far  from  thee,  and  may  the  foul 
spirit  which  hath  vexed  thee  depart  unto  the  deeps, 
whilst  I  rehearse  in  thine  hearing  the  blessed  verses 
of  the  holy  Prophet  touching  the  triumphant  restora- 
tion of  Jacob  ;  albeit  it  is  like  singing  one  of  the 
songs  of  Zion  in  a  strange  land."  The  devout  and 
benevolent  Jewess  then  brought  from  behind  the 
tapestry  a  piece  of  most  choice  embroidery  of  gold 
and  silver  flowers  upon  crimson  silk,  and  took  from 
thence  a  parchment  roll  written  in  a  square  black 
character  ;  out  of  which  she  read  with  such  a 
marvellous  pleasant  and  comforting  voice,  that,  not- 
withstanding all  my  fears  and  sorrows,  it  joyed  me 
greatly  to  listen  unto  it.  Old  age  had  not  yet  stolen 
from  it  all  the  sweetness  of  it's  younger  years,  and 
though  it  began  with  a  plaintive  tone,  it  gradually  in- 
creased into  a  swell  of  holy  triumph  and  pious  bliss. 
That  which  she  read  was  part  of  the  Prophet  Esay, 


"  Guardian  Ancfel. 


t)0  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

in  Hebrew,  so  that  at  this  time  I  might  not  under- 
stand it ;  but  as  she  hath  since  told  me  it  was  her 
most  delightsome  song  in  the  house  of  her  pilgrimage, 
and  she  taught  it  unto  me  with  the  true  interpretation 
thereof,  which  in  the  tongue  of  our  own  nation,  is 
written  as  followeth  : — 

"  But  thou,  Israel !  my  servant — 

Fear  thou  not ;  for  I  am  with  thee  ; 

Be  not  dismayed  ; 

For  I  am  thy  God. 

I  will  strengthen  thee ; 

Yea,  1  will  uphold  thee 

With  the  right  hand  of  my  righteousness. 

Fear  not,  thou  worm,  Jacob  ! 
And  ye,  men  of  Israel ! 
I  will  help  thee,  saith  the  Lord 
And  thy  lledeemer,  the  Holy  One  of  Israel. 

Fear  not,  for  I  have  redeemed  thee ; 

I  have  called  thee  by  thy  name  ; 

Thou  art  mine. 

When  thou  passest  through  the  waters, 

I  will  be  with  thee  ; 

And  through  the  rivers 

They  shall  not  overflow  thee  : 

When  thou  ivalkest  through  the  fire, 

Thou  shalt  not  be  burned  : 

Neither  shall  the  flame  kindle  upon  tliee. 

Fear  not ;  for  I  am  M-ith  thee  ; 
I  will  bring  thy  seed  from  the  East, 
1  will  gather  thee  from  the  West : 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  Gl 

I  will  say  to  the  North, — '  Give  up  !' 

And  to  the  South,  — '  Keep  not  back  ! 

Bring  my  sons  from  alar. 

And  my  daughters  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  !'  " 

As  Naomi  i-eacl  these  most  sublime  woi-ds,  the  old 
Israelite  first  became  silent,  and  crossing  his  hands 
upon  his  breast,  paced  about  the  chamber  several 
times  in  great  agitation,  as  if  struggling  against  some 
forcible  though  inward  temptation ;  whereof  his 
blood-shotten  eyes,  and  the  convulsive  working  of  his 
lips  bewrayed  how  fearful  was  the  conflict.  Anon, 
as  the  divine  Prophecy  continued,  he  became  calmer  ; 
and  as  it  concluded  he  approached  a  small  wooden 
frame,  through  which  air  and  light  were  admitted  to 
that  narrow  apartment,  and,  having  thrown  it  open, 
he  fell  upon  his  knees,  beating  his  breast  and  crying, 
"  I  have  sinned  !  I  have  sinned  !"  Then,  turning  his 
face  unto  the  East,  he  covered  it  Avith  his  hands,  and 
remained  for  some  time  engaged  in  silent  and  earnest 
prayer.  In  a  short  space  he  arose,  but  his  counte- 
nance had  undergone  a  wondi'ous  change ;  for  albeit 
the  deep  lines  which  time  and  sorrow  had  traced 
thereon  with  a  pen  of  iron,  were  still  indelibly  de- 
picted there,  yet  were  they  now  greatly  softened,  and 
divested  of  their  former  fierceness.  His  eyes  were 
also  glistening  with  tears,  and  beamed  with  kindly 
aspect,  declaring  his  victory  over  those  cruel  thoughts 
and  evil  purposes,  that  with  such  \'olcanic  fury  had 
been  raging  in  his  bosom. 


02  TIIK    LAST    OK    THK    PLANTAOENETS. 

He  now  tui-ned  to  his  aged  wife  who  had  likewise 
been  praying  and  giving   thanks,  but  had  risen  and 
seated  herself  upon  a  low  stone  bench  in  the  wall,  and 
addressed  her  with — "  Naomi,   thou  wert  the  joy  of 
my  youth,  and,  verily,  thou  art  the  staff  and  comfort 
of  my  old  age.     The  harp  of  the  son   of  Jesse  could 
charm  away  the  evil  thoughts  and  foul  spirits  which 
troubled  Saul,  and  behold  thy  gentle  voice,  and  the 
sweet  song  of  the  son  of  Amoz,  hath  calmed  the  fierce 
desire  of  vengeance  which  the   Destroyer  had  for  a 
moment  awakened  within  my  soul.     Fear  not  thou 
for  the  lad ;    the  child  of  our  worse  than  Egyptian 
taskmasters  shall  be  cared  for  and  protected,  even  by 
the  strangers,  who  for  themselves,  can  find  no  resting- 
place  in  this  land.     Yea,  we  will  bind  up  his  wounds 
with  the  healing  arts  of  our  nation  ;  albeit  unto  me 
he  seemeth  rather  to  want  thy  tender  care,  than  the 
skill  of  the  leech.     A  brief  time  will  bring  back  his 
youthful  strength,  and  we  may  then  learn  from  him 
who,  and  what  he  is,  and  to  whom  we  should  restore 
him ;  and,  in  the  mean  space,  quiet  and  slumber  will 
be  his  best  medicaments."     With  these  words  they 
both  arose  and  quitted  the  apartment. 

Albeit  the  mild  discourse  and  tranquillised  demea- 
nour of  Rabbi  Israel,  and  the  pious  and  gentle  speech 
of  the  good  Naomi,  had  somewhat  calmed  my  dis- 
quieted spirit,  yet  could  I  not  cease  to  think  with 
great  horror  that  I  was  in  the  power  of  a  Jew  !  of 
one  of  that  hateful  race,  which  brought  up,  as  I  had 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENET8.  63 

been,  on  the  very  lap  of  our  Holy  Church, — I  could 
consider  in  no  other  light  than  as  the  common  ene- 
mies of  Christendom,  and  as  being  in  a  state  of  cease- 
less hostility  to  the  body  and  soul  of  man.  The  ancient 
monastic  annals  of  this  realm,  such  as  the  noble  his- 
tory of  the  wise  Matthew  Paris,  and  the  Chronicles  of 
Thomas  Wikes,  or  of  Dunstaple  Priory,  which  our 
good  instructor,  Father  Austin,  would  sometimes  read 
unto  his  pupils,  often  spake  of  the  cruelties  of  the 
abandoned  Jews  towards  Christians,  whiles  they  were 
suffered  to  remain  in  our  land.  They  were  commonly 
represented  as  being  infectious  as  their  own  native 
leprosy,  and  devouring  as  the  Arabian  locusts.  It 
had,  indeed,  been  told  me,  that  at  this  time  they  no 
where  existed  as  a  body  in  England,  but  reports  were 
not  wanting  that  their  love  of  gain  still  brought  them 
into  the  country  whence  they  were  banished ;  and 
that  they  yet  moved  about  us  in  darkness  and  secresy, 
like  the  vampires  of  Eastern  climes,  searching  for 
those  whom  they  might  plunder  or  sacrifice.  They 
were  thus  suspected  rather  than  convicted,  and  felt 
rather  than  know  n ;  whilst  to  gain  their  ends,  they 
were  sometimes  said  even  to  join  in  the  detested  rites 
of  our  Holy  Church,  and  to  adore  that  cross  which 
they  abhorred.  Then,  too,  I  remembered  how  it  had 
been  told  me,  that  this  people  at  once  so  despicable 
and  so  dangerous,  cut  off  from  their  country  and  kins- 
folk, endured  their  captivity,  even  in  those  places 
where  they  were  admitted  to  dwell,   only  for   lucre 


64  THR    LAST    OP    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

and  wicked  usury  ;  by  •which  they  drew  unto  them- 
selves the  wealth  of  the  commons,  that  covetous  Prin- 
ces and  nobles  might  wrest  it  from  them  into  tlieir 
own  coffers. 

Anon   my  too-ready  memory  brought  back  unto 
me  every  wild  tale  and  fearful  history,  which  I   had 
heard  or  read  of  the    blood-thirsty    Hebrews ;    and 
specially  of  their  seizing  upon  and  hiding  Christian 
children,  feasting  them   with  dainty   food,  milk  and 
white  bread,  and  at  last   crucifying  them  in  despite 
and  mockei'y  of  the  holy  Founder  of  our  Faith.     I 
remembered  now,  also,  as  if  it  were  to  confirm  these 
stories  and  increase  my  fears,  that  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Lincoln  stood  the  shrine  of  the  blessed  young  IMar- 
tyr,  St.  Hugh ;  a  child  whom  the  vengeful  Jews  had 
thus  put  to  death,  in  the  year  1256,  the  fortieth  of  the 
reign  of  Henry  III. ;  though  the  good  canons  of  the 
church  had  wondrously  recovered  his  body  and  given 
unto  it  a   stately  burial,   as   his  story  is   written  by 
Matthew  Paris.     This  was  followed  by  the  legend  of 
that  holy  young  child  whom  the  Jews  wantonly  caused 
to  be  slain  in  Asia,  as  I  had  heard  recited  at  Christ- 
mas-tide, out  of  Master  Chaucer's  immortal  histories  : 
whereupon  I  remembered  me  that  the  fair  infant  did 
ever  and  anon  sweetly  sing  that  antiphon  in  the  Office 
to  our  Lady,  beginning  "  Alma  Redetuptoris  Maler," 
by  the  which  he  was  wondrously  discovered  after  his 
murther.     And  so,  taking  courage,  I  did  silently  call 
upon  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mother  and  her  most  Holy 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  65 

Child,  in  like  manner ;  nor  did  I  make  mine  orisons 
in  vain,  since  the  anthem  was  neither  unmarked  nor 
unanswered.  Tranquillity  and  comfort  were  given 
unto  my  troubled  spirit,  as  I  thought  upon  the  mild 
and  sorrowful  speech  of  Naomi,  and  the  calmer  de- 
portment of  the  Jew ;  and  though  I  was  still  as  it 
were  encaged  with  these  unbelievers,  I  trusted  that 
my  body  and  spirit  would  soon  recover  their  wonted 
strength,  that  I  might  have  the  power  of  resistance 
if  any  violence  should  be  offered  unto  me. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    I'AKTUEH    DISC0VP:UY     OF    TlIK     .lEW's     IIKAIIT    ANJ> 

IIISTORY. 


No  resting  could  he  findc  at;Jl, 

No  ease,  nor  heart's  content. 
No  house,  nor  home,  nor  (l\velling-i>lat'e  ; 

But  waud'ring  forth  he  went. 

And  he  doth  suffer  all  this  paine 

Of  torments  and  of  woes : 
These  are  his  wordes,  and  eke  his  life. 

Whereas  he  comes  or  goes. 

D^LLAO   OK   TU£    WANDERING   JeW. 


Only  a  brief  time  passed  away,  ere,  to  bring  me 
food,  the  Hebrew  again  approached  the  bed  on  which 
I  was  outstretched  ;  and  looking  upon  my  face,  as 
methought  with  great  compassion  rather  than  wrath, 
he  took  my  hand,  and  gently  pressing  it,  seemed  by 
his  penetrating  glances,  to  demand  of  me  if  I  were 
observant  of  his  actions.  As  yet,  however,  I  much 
doubted  whether  it  would  be  fitting  for  me  to  speak 
unto  him,  and  knew  not  in  what  words  to  accost  him  ; 
but  whilst  I  thus  mused,  he  of  himself  brake  silence. 


THE    LAST    OK    TJIE    PLANTAGENETS.  67 

now  addressing  his  speech  unto  me.  "  How  is  it  with 
thee,  youth?"  said  he,  "  lo,  here  is  food  for  thee; 
canst  thou  now  hearken  inito  my  voice,  and  under- 
stand the  purport  of  my  words?" 

To  this  I  answered,  that  I  could  hear  him  right 
■well,  and  knew  what  he  had  spoken ;  though  nathe- 
less  I  was  still  doubtfully  musing  as  to  what  his  ac- 
tions tended,  and  why  I  had  been  brought  thither. 

"I  rejoice,"  replied  he,  "that  thy  remembrance 
hath  so  far  returned  as  to  make  thee  curious  in  this 
matter.  Know,  then,  that  about  noon  this  day,  for 
it  is  now  past  even-tide,  I  found  thee  bleeding  and 
senseless  on  the  plain  of  Redmoor,  some  eleven  miles 
from  this  place,  after  the  late  battle  there ;  whence  I 
brought  thee  unto  my  own  poor  abode." 

"To  thy  home  I"  exclaimed  I,  for  I  was  not  as  yet 
entirely  void  of  dread  touching  my  safety,  "and 
wherefore  was  I  so  brought?  for  if  I  read  thy  visage 
aright,  I  am  in  the  power  of  a  Jew  I" 

"  In  the  'power  of  a  Jew,  say  est  thou  ?"  responded 
Israel,  "  Holy  Jacob  !  hath  then  a  Jew  power,  or 
ought  else  pertaining  unto  him  in  this  land  which  he 
may  verily  call  his  own  ?  If,  therefore,  to  be  in  the 
dwelling  of  a  Jew,  who  hath  saved  thee  from  great 
peril,  and  perchance,  from  death,  be  sorrow,  young 
gentile,  then  in  truth  mayest  thou  deem  that  woe  is 
thee."  He  spake  this  with  a  mournful  sternness,  as 
if  much  resenting  mine  incautious  speech ;  upon 
which,  not  to  anger  him  farther,  I  made  an  effort  to 


68  THE    LAST    OF    THR  PLANTAGENETS. 

raise  me  on  my  couch,  and  in  more  courteous  terms 
demanded  of  him  wherefore  he  had  brought  me  unto 
his  dwelling.  It  seemed,  nevertheless,  as  if  some  bit- 
terness of  soul  were  still  within  him,  since  he  replied 
somewhat  hastily,  "  Aye,  I  warrant  me,  thy  Christian 
spirit,  young  as  thou  art,  deems  that  a  Jew  can  have 
no  purpose  even  in  saving  life,  but  a  foul  one.  I  ques- 
tion not  but  in  thine  eyes,  his  house  is  like  the  den  of 
the  ravening  wolf;  and,  verily,  it  is  little  better,  since, 
hunted  like  a  wild  beast  wherever  the  sun  of  heaven 
shineth  on  him,  like  the  creatures  of  the  desert  is  he 
forced  by  the  men  of  thy  nation  and  faith  to  hide 
him  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth.  But  beast,  or 
even  reptile,  as  a  Jew  may  seem  in  thine  eyes,  me- 
thinks  he  might,  not  without  reason,  have  hoped  for 
some  brief  respite  from  scorn,  from  one  whom  the 
hand  of  his  pity  hath  been  stretched  out  to  save." 

As  he  thus  accosted  me,  his  voice  became  so  solemn 
and  mournful,  that  whilst  it  filled  me  with  reverence 
it  almost  called  forth  my  tears ;  and  led  me  to  think 
within  myself,  whether,  notwithstanding  all  which  I 
had  heard,  it  might  not  be  possible  even  for  a  Jew  to 
feel  and  act  with  compassion  and  benevolence.  Upon 
this  I  answered,  that  I  had  not  in  truth  expressed 
scorn  unto  him,  nor  likened  him  unto  either  beast  or 
reptile ;  but  had  only  questioned  as  to  what  might  be 
his  intent  in  bringing  me  unto  his  home  so  far  dis- 
tant, and  detaining  me  there. 

"Now,  Moses  be  gracious  unto  me  !"  returned  the 


THK    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  69 

Rabbi,  still  with  an  impatient  voice,  "  I  pray  thee, 
youth,  to  believe,  if  thou  canst,  that  the  doing  of 
good  actions  even  in  a  Jew,  may  have  other  than  an 
evil  intent.  I  brought  thee  hither,  as  God  shall  judge 
between  us,  because  thou  couldest  not  remove  thyself 
from  the  fearful  dangers  of  plunder  or  death  which 
did  surround  thee  on  every  side ;  and  here  do  I 
keep  thee,  for  that  thy  wasted  strength  and  drowsy 
senses  admit  not  of  thy  departure.  And,  yet.  Father 
Abraham !  thou  most  compassionate  friend  of  the 
wayfarer, — it  is  for  having  thus  mercifully  stepped  in 
between  his  soul  and  death,  that  he  deems  me  no  other 
than  a  wretch  that  would  imprison  or  a  demon  that 
would  destroy  !" 

Whilst  he  thus  spake,  his  grieved  spirit  again  en- 
kindled wrath  and  bitterness  in  his  eyes,  which  struck 
new  terrors  into  my  soul,  from  recalling  his  murther- 
ous  aspect  when  I  first  beheld  him  bending  over  my 
couch :  but  in  a  moment  afterwards  his  fierce  looks, 
as  before,  had  suddenly  passed  away,  and  albeit  his 
features  were  still  deeply  impressed  with  sorrow, 
the  characters  of  rage  were  there  no  longer.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  a  sad  yet  more  tranquil  voice,  that  he 
continued,  "  Woe  is  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man  !  I 
should  not  thus  have  given  place  unto  wrath ;  nor 
have  forgotten  that  thou  art  but  an  inexperienced 
youth,  who  peradventurc  hast  liad  evil  tlioughts  of 
our  despised  and  outcast  nation  poured  into  thy  young 


70  THR    LAST    OF    TIIK  PLANTAGRNETS. 

mind,  the  which  wisdom  and  years  have  not  yet  re- 
moved. Therefore  have  I  sinned,  in  suffering  mine 
anger  to  be  kindled  against  thee,  seeing  thou  art  but 
of  tender  age ;  yet  the  spirit  which  is  bowed  down 
with  grief,  wherein  the  arrows  of  affliction  do  stick 
fast,  is  all  too  easily  put  from  it's  patience.  How- 
beit,  do  thou  now  partake  of  this  food,  which  of  n 
truth  thy  fainting  strength  must  greatly  want ;  and 
whiles  thou  eatest,  as  thou  seemest  to  have  some  know- 
ledge such  as  older  years  would  not  disown,  T  will 
relate  to  thee  so  much  of  my  past  life,  as  will  shew 
thee  the  springs  of  my  sorrow  and  the  cause  of  the 
bitterness  of  my  souL" 

Encouraged  by  his  words  I  began  to  partake  of  the 
provisions  which  he  had  brought  me,  at  the  same  time 
giving  earnest  heed  unto  his  discourse,  for  my  pity 
and  curiosity  were  now  awakened  for  the  sorrov*'ful 
old  Hebrew's  story ;  and  I  moreover  repented  me  of 
the  discourteous  manner  in  which  I  had  spoken  unto 
him.  Rabbi  Israel  upon  this  seated  himself  by  the 
side  of  my  couch,  and  continued  his  speech  unto  me 
after  this  manner. 

"  Peradventure  thou  mayest  have  seen  or  heard  it 
told,  from  the  books  of  the  chronicles  of  this  land, 
that  about  an  hundred  and  ninety  and  five  years  ago, 
even  in  the  year  5050,  when  your  First  Edward  was 
King  over  the  realm, — that  a  law  was  made  taking 
away  from  our  people  all  'vantage  of  lent  monies  and 


THE-  LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  71 

pledges,  therein  called  usury,*  the  which  was  averred 
to  be  to  the  great  evil  and  disherison  of  the  common- 
weal, and  banishing  the  Jews  out  of  England.     In 
the  twelfth  month,  even  Ab,  about  the  middle  there- 
of,  the  King  gave  unto   our  nation   certain  passes  of 
safe-conduct,  that  they  might  hasten  throughout  all 
the  land  up  to  London,  and  there  take  shipping  to  go 
beyond  seas ;  upon  which  sixteen  thousand  five  hun- 
dred and  eleven  Jews   departed  from  Britain.     The 
grinding  laws  and  Princes  under  whom  they  had  long 
lived,   had  left  them  but   little  of  their  substance  to 
carry  hence,   but  divers   of  the  richest  of  them  em- 
barked themselves,  with  all  their  possessions,  on  board 
a  tall  ship  of  great  burthen.     When  they  had  hoisted 
sail   and   gotten    down    the    Tliames   river,    beyond 
Queenborough,  the  master  of  the  ship  confederated 
with  divers  of  his  mariners  to  destroy  them  and  get 
their  inheritance ;  and  to  bring  it  to  pass  they  cast 


*  The  Statutum  de  Jwc/aiswo,  which  took  av>'ay  usury  from  the 
Jews,  to  whom  it  had  always  been  before  confined,— was  pass- 
ed at  a  Parliament  held  after  the  Feasts  of  St.  Hilary,  Jan. 
13th,  and  Easter,  April  2nd,  in  the  18th  year  of  the  reion  of 
Edward  I.,  1290  ;  which  is  the  Jewish  year  mentioned  above, 
according  to  the  computation  of  the  Synagojrue,  of  'SIGQ 
years  having  passed  from  the  Creation  to  the  liirth  of  Christ. 
Several  of  the  Monastic  Clu-oniclcs  state  that  the  Jews  were 
banished  by  this  Act.  The  King's  writs  of  safe-conduct  for 
their  travelling  to  London  were  dated  in  July,  answering  tu 
Ab,  the  twelfth  month  of  the  Hebrew  vear- 


72  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGRNETS. 

anchor,  and  rode  thereat  until  the  barque  at  ebb-tide 
lay  upon  the  dry  sands.  In  farther  execution  of  their 
most  wicked  plot,  the  shipmen  then  moved  our  hap- 
less fathers  to  go  forth  from  the  ship  and  walk  witli 
the  master  on  land,  which  they  did.  At  last,  when 
he  marked  that  the  tide  was  swiftly  coming  in,  he 
withdrew  himself  secretly  from  them  and  got  back 
to  the  ship  into  the  which  he  was  drawn  up  by  a 
cord,  as  it  had  been  before  plotted;  whereupon  the 
Jews, — who,  knowing  not  their  danger,  had  not  made 
such  speed, — when  they  perceived  the  peril  they  were 
in,  cried  aloud  for  aid  and  to  be  taken  on  board.  How- 
beit  the  profane  scoffers  in  the  ship  mocked  them, 
saying  that  they  ought  rather  to  call  upon  Moses,  who 
led  their  fathers  through  the  Red-Sea,  and  who  was 
well  able  to  deliver  them  from  the  raging  floods, 
which  within  short  space  arose  and  swallowed  them 
all  !" 

"  Blessed  Virgin  !"  exclaimed  I,  in  wondrous  hor- 
ror at  this  history,  "  and  what  became  of  the  mur- 
therous  mariners  }" 

"  Vengeance  suffered  them  not  to  live,"  answered 
Israel ;  "  for  within  brief  space  after,  they  were  taken 
by  your  Judges  and  put  to  death.  In  that  most 
foul  destruction,  youth,  perished  many  of  my  tribe 
and  kindred;  and  in  especial  the  wise  and  pious 
Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  of  mine  own  house  and  lineage,  who 
was  a  Teacher  of  the  Law  to  the  Jews  of  England, 
and  had  in  great  honour  and  favour  by  his  brethren. 


THE    LAST    OP    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  73 

SO  that  they  prayed  him  to  go  in  the  same  ship  with 
the  hapless  elders  of  our  persecuted  people.  His  be- 
loved wife,  Rachel,  had  departed  before  him  in  an- 
other barque  with  her  own  kindred ;  both  because  of 
the  great  age  and  weakness  of  her  father,  and  also  for 
that  she  was  then  with  child,  and  so  lacked  the  aid  of 
women.  Both  of  these  ships  were  bound  unto  the 
coast  of  Spain,  as  divers  others  were  to  France ;  for 
in  these  nations  did  we  hope  to  find  rest  from  our 
most  bitter  persecutions.  The  first  ship  got  unto  her 
harbour  in  safety,  and  Rachel  went  unto  certain  of 
her  kindred  in  Arragon  ;  where  dwelt  the  wise  Rabbi 
Jonah,  who  wrote  a  holy  book  called  the  Practice  of 
Piety,  at  the  command  of  the  First  James,  King  of 
that  land.  She  waited  many  days  anxiously  looking 
for  the  desire  of  her  eyes,  and  the  other  elders  of  scat- 
tered Israel,  who,  alas  !  were  sleeping  beneath  the 
deep  waters — and  felt  that  sickness  of  heart,  which 
the  Wise  Man  saith  cometh  from  hope  deferred  ;  un- 
til the  evil  tidings  came  of  their  foul  murther,  upon 
which  she  suddenly  fell  into  travail,  brought  forward 
a  son  at  an  vmtimely  birth, — and  died !  Her  child 
was  cared  for  by  the  good  Rabbi  Jonali,  and  those  of 
her  own  people  with  whom  she  dwelt ;  and  by  the 
blessing  of  the  God  of  Jacob  upon  him,  he  prospered 
in  that  land,  though  he  was  called  Ben  Cainan,  or  the 
son  of  one  that  lamenteth.  From  him  I  am  the  fifth 
in  descent,  albeit  I  am  called  from  the  place  of  my 
sojourning,   Israel  of  Castile,   seeing  that  I  abode  in 


74  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAOENETS. 

that  kingdom  until  some  two  years  since,  when  a  new 
persecution  even  more  pitiless  and  cruel  than  any 
which  have  oppressed  us  in  England,  drove  me  again 
unto  these  shores,  which  peradventure  the  remnant 
of  our  nation  hath  quitted  for  ever." 

By  these  words  I  perceived  that  Rabbi  Israel  signi- 
fied the  late  settlement  of  the  Holy  OfKce  of  the  Inqui- 
sition in  Spain,  the  fame  of  which  had  reached  even 
our  remote  IMonastery  of  Ely.  It  was,  as  I  had  heard 
tell,  brought  into  Castile  in  the  Year  of  our  Lord, 
1478,  by  one  Thomas  Turrecremata,  a  Dominican, 
and  Prior  of  the  Monastery  of  the  Holy  Cross  at  Se- 
govia; who,  in  1483,  was  also  appointed  to  be  Inqui- 
sitor-General of  the  Kingdoms  of  Castile  and  Leon,  by 
a  Bull  from  the  Holy  Father  Sixtus  IV.  All  men 
know  that  the  chief  intent  of  this  awful  tribunal  was 
to  reclaim  or  put  down  heretics,  but  when  it  was 
firmly  stablished  the  Jews  also  were  required  to  be- 
come Christians,  depart  the  Kingdom,  or  die  at  the 
stake.  Four  years  were  given  them  for  making  their 
hapless  choice,  after  which  all  persons  were  prohi- 
bited, under  divers  rigorous  penalties,  from  aiding  or 
communicating  with  them  ;  and  albeit  they  sought  to 
avoid  banishment  by  paying  large  sums  unto  King 
Ferdinand,  when  the  zealous  Turrecremata  heard 
thereof,  he  went  rudely  before  the  King  and  Queen, 
and  demanded  that  those  outcasts  of  Israel  should 
forthwitli  be  expulsed  the  land ;  adding,  withal,  that 
it  was  a  Jndas-like   act   to  ])ermit  of  their   stay    for 


THE    LAST    OF    THK     PLAXTAGENKTS.  /5 

money.  The  I'ule  of  the  Holy  Office  soon  spread  so 
widely  over  the  land,  that  2,000  heretics  were  burned, 
17jOOO  became  penitents,  and  a  large  number  fled  into 
divers  other  nations;  though  when  the  whole  Jewish 
people  was  banished,  170,000  families  of  400,000  ])er- 
sons  departed  from  Spain,  none  of  whom  might  return 
again  upon  pain  of  confiscation  or  death. 

And  here  I  may  fitly  remember  and  set  down  what 
farther  persecutions  have  since  followed  these  hapless 
Hebrews,  albeit  the  story  belongeth  unto  a  later  time 
than  that  of  which  I  do  now  write  ;  for  when  they 
were  expulsed  from  Spain  in  1492,  only  a  few  re- 
maining who  were  sold  for  slaves,  they  turned  them 
unto  Portugal,  wherein  King  John  II.  did  permit  them 
to  live  for  a  brief  and  appointed  space,  so  that  each 
Jew  paid  unto  him  eight  pieces  of  gold.  It  was,  as 
I  think,  in  1496  when  they  promised  to  depart  his 
kingdom,  but  the  foul  extortion  and  evil  usage  which 
they  met  from  the  mariners  of  those  ships  wherein 
they  would  have  embarked,  did  so  affright  them,  that 
they  deemed  it  a  lesser  misfortune  to  encounter  the 
penalty  of  over-staying  their  time,  to  getting  into  the 
hands  of  such  ill-minded  men.  Thus  Avere  they  again 
brouglit  into  captivity,  so  that  it  was  no  strange  thing 
for  anyone  wanting  a  Jewish  servant,  to  desire  liim  of 
the  King  whose  bondsmen  they  were.  Howbeit, 
when  Emanuel  came  unto  the  crown  he  restored  their 
liberty,  until  lie  was  counselled  by  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella  of  Castile  not  to   suffer  their  lonffer  abode  in 


70  TIIR    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

Portugal,  since  they  were  naturally  hated  both  by 
God  and  man:  in  1497  he  therefore  put  forth  an 
edict  that  they,  and  all  Moors,  should  depart  by  a 
certain  day,  or  again  become  slaves.  The  Moors  forth- 
with went  into  Africa,  but  as  the  Hebrews  were 
making  ready  to  do  the  like,  the  King  commanded  all 
their  children  under  fourteen  years  to  be  forcibly  rent 
from  them,  and  taught  the  Faith  of  Christendom. 
And  it  was,  as  I  have  been  certified  by  one  who  saw 
it,  a  most  woeful  sight  to  behold  those  children  torn, 
even  in  the  streets,  from  their  lamenting  fathers  and 
weeping  mothers,  who  were  sometimes  beaten  with 
clubs  ere  they  could  be  constrained  to  part  with  them. 
But  now  to  return  again  unto  the  Rabbi  Israel's 
history :  he  told  me  that  after  the  Inqiiisition  had 
begun  persecuting  the  Jews  of  Castile,  they  kept 
themselves  more  secret,  and  met  for  prayers  and  the 
services  of  their  Law,  at  night  in  the  chamber  of  a 
decayed  house  in  a  remote  part  of  the  City  of  Madrid. 
They  were  not,  however,  unmistrusted,  for  one 
Hojeda,  a  spy,  having  concealed  him  in  the  chamber, 
beheld  certain  of  their  devotions  and  denounced  them 
unto  the  cruel  Inquisitor-General.  The  whole  of  that 
little  synagogue.  Rabbi  Israel,  his  wife,  and  son, 
being  of  the  number,  were  therefore  put  into  chains 
and  loathsome  prisons  ;  and  after  long  remaining 
there,  they  were  tortured,  despoiled  of  their  goods, 
and  banished  the  land,  whilst  others  of  their  brethren 
were  condemned  to  the  flames. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAtrENETS.  77 

"  In  Castile,"  continued  the  Jew,  "  I  had  been  wont 
to  deal  in  the  precious  stones  of  Afrike,  and  having 
hidden  certain  of  the  choicest  thereof  in  the  lining  of 
my  gaberdine,  I  travelled  hither  with  a  Poland  mer- 
chant who  had  licence  to  bring  over  a  fair  ruby  for 
sale,  so  that  he  first  shewed  it  vmto  the  King  and 
Queen.  With  one  of  my  gems  I  made  me  an  advo- 
cate in  Mistress  Shore,  King  Edward's  concubine, 
for  in  her  days  of  power  she  would  speak  for  men  in 
their  suits  unto  his  Grace,  and  that  sometimes  for 
small  reward,  or  none  at  all ;  either  for  that  she  was 
content  with  her  mediation  itself,  when  it  prospered, 
or  for  that  she  delighted  to  be  sued  vmto,  and  shew 
what  she  might  procure  from  the  King.  Howbeit, 
by  her  favour,  because  I  was  of  Spain  and  well  seen 
in  the  traffic  of  that  nation,  it  pleased  the  King  to  set 
me  over  the  customs  of  divers  merchandises  sent 
thither  or  brought  thence.  And  thus  for  a  short  while 
I  prospered,  and  deemed  that  my  mountain  stood 
strong  ;  but  upon  her  late  overthrow  after  King 
Edward's  death,  I  also  was  despoiled,  and  put  forth 
from  mine  office  with  contumely,  and  fled  for  my 
life  to  certain  of  my  brethren  who  secretly  abide  in 
this  place.  I  had  not  been  here  a  year,  when  a  far 
deeper  wound  was  made  upon  mine  afflicted  soul ; 
for  a  little  before  the  next  Passover,  in  the  time  which 
you  call  Lent,  when  the  Gentiles  were  ever  wont  to 
])ersecute  our  hapless  tribe  witli  blows  and  curses,  the 
brutal  rabble   fell   upon  mine  only  son,  my  Benoni, 


78  THK     LAST    OK    TICK    PLAN TAGENETS. 

and  stoned  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  heathen  or  a  blas- 
phemer! Oh,  Thou  Rock  of  Ages  !  never  can  I  cease  to 
sorrow  over  him,  since  a  fairer  and  purer  being 
breathed  not  in  all  the  race  of  the  Faithful !  and 
though  many  days  have  passed  since  that  most  cruel 
slaughter  was  committed  even  before  the  eyes  of  his 
father,  the  remembrance  of  that  horrid  season  remains 
within  this  wretched  breast,  as  freshly  depicted  as 
though  it  were  but  of  the  age  of  yesterday." 

A  deep  and  frequent  sobbing  at  this  most  sorrow- 
ful part  of  the  Jew's  history,  caused  him  to  note  that 
the   compassionate    female  who    had  so   calmed    his 
hatred     towards    me, — had,  unmarked,  entered    the 
chamber,  and  seemed  heavily  afflicted  at  the   sad  re- 
membrances now  brought   unto  her  mind.     Where- 
upon he  arose  to  comfort  her,  and  tenderly  laying  his 
hand  upon  her  arm,  said   unto  her,  albeit  his  voice 
faltered  with  sorrow,  "  Weep  not,  my  beloved  Naomi, 
weep   not,  mine   aged  and  faithful  spouse,  our  boy 
now  sleepeth  sweetly  and  hath  for  ever  escaped  from 
the   Aveapons   of  his  persecutors,  even  as    the    bird 
flieth  out  of  the  net   of  the   fowler.     Bethink    thee, 
that  the  holy   God  who  redeemed    Israel   from    the 
land  of  IVIizraim,  hath  also  taken  him  into  Paradise 
from  this  most  evil    world,  being  a    soul  sealed  by 
Jehovah   unto    the    everlasting    Covenant    of    Abra- 
ham.    Yea,   he    hath    now  gone   where   the  arm   of 
the  oppressor  is  powerless,  and  the  tongue   of  the 
scorner  is  mute  ;    for  there,  as  the  lioly  man  of  Uz 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAG£NKTS.  79 

said  of  old,  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the 
weary  are  at  rest.  Weep  not,  then,  my  Naomi,  I 
pray  thee,  sorrow  is  not  for  the  happy  soul,  and  thou 
knowest  that  the  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed." 

"  Thou  wilt  not  now  marvel,"  continued  he,  after  a 
brief  pause,  again  turning  his  discourse  unto  me, 
"that  the  image  of  our  child,  despitefully  treated 
wounded,  and  bleeding,  is  ever  present  unto  our 
thoughts,  and  that  the  remembrance  of  his  sufferings 
should  sometimes  call  forth  upon  the  Gentiles,  the 
bitterness  of  his  father's  curse ;  at  which  seasons  the 
voice  of  the  Evil  One  woidd  often  Avhisper  me  to 
avenge  his  blood.  Howbeit,  I  thank  the  God  of 
Bethel,  that  his  temptations  have  as  yet  been  only 
like  foul  visions,  which  fly  before  the  beams  of  the 
morning,  and  as  grass  upon  the  house-tops,  which 
withereth  before  it  groweth  up  ;  even  so  my  unholy 
thoughts  have  been  cut  off"  ere  they  sprang  up  into 
open  sins  against  His  Law. 

"  But  enough  of  mine  own  story  and  sorrows,  let 
us  now  turn  to  thine.  As  I  told  thee,  about  noon  this 
day  when  I  passed  over  the  plain  near  Bosworth, 
after  the  overthrow  of  the  host  of  King  Richard,— a 
name  which  is  held  accursed  for  ever  by  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel,*— it  was  my  lot  there  to  find  thee. 


"  The  reader  will  readily  perceive  that  this  execration  re- 
fers  lo  the  memorable  massacre  of  the  Jews,  under  Richard  I., 
which  commenced  at  his  Coronation-feast  in  Westminster-hall, 
on  Sunday,  September  3rd,  1 1«!>,  and  was  afterwards  carried  on 


HO  THE    LAST    or    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

lying  like  one  of  the  dead;  and  because  I  saw  that 
thine  age  was  that  of  my  slaughtered  son,  I  marked 
thee  more  earnestly,  and  methought  thy  features  had 
a  strong  semblance  to  his.  Whilst  I  thus  gazed  I 
beheld  thee  move,  which  shewed  that  the  lamp  of 
thy  life  was  yet  burning,  however  dimly,  and  as  I 
mused  within  myself  whether  thou  wert  strong 
enough  to  be  borne  imto  a  leech,  a  motion  of  more 
power  caused  me  to  deem  that  the  ministrations  of 
Naomi,  whose  skill  in  the  healing  art  is  not  small, 
might  speedily  restore  thy  fainting  life.  I  then  laid 
thee  upon  mine  own  mule  and  brought  thee  hither ; 
and  if  by  the  coming  morrow  thou  shalt  find  thy 
limbs  strong  enough  to  bear  thee  hence,  thou  art  at 
once  free  to  return  unto  thy  kindred,  who,  if  I  judge 
aright  from  that  costly  gem  upon  thine  hand,  are  of 
high  blood  and  power,  notwithstanding  the  coarse- 
ness of  thy  raiment." 

The  hapless  Hebrew's  narrative  and  his  passing 
great  humanity,  touched  me  alike  with  pity  and  in- 
ward shame,  in  that  I  had  formed  such  evil  thoughts 
of  ray  deliverer ;  and  therefore  to  do  him  what  re- 
paration I  might,  I  silently  offered  up  for  him  such 
prayers  as  the  Holy  Church  hath  appointed  to  be 
made   for   Jews  and  heretics  in   the  Office  for  Good 


in  many  country  towns,  though  the  most  sanguinary  scene 
took  i)lacc  at  York.  The  fullest  account  of  these  events  is 
in  the  History  of  Walter  tie  Heniingford. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  81 

Friday  ;   and  also  desired  of  him  to  forgive  the  hasty 
speech  which  had  been  called  forth  by  my  fears. 

"  Of  that  no  more,"  replied  he;  "  we  are  all  open  to 
the  Tempter,  and  our  spirits  do  often  too  easily  yield 
them  to  the  circumstances  of  our  condition.    Go,  then, 
in  peace  unto  thy  friends,  whenever  thou  shalt  be  so 
minded ;  and  if  they  be,  as  I  deem,   of  the  great  of 
this  land,  forget  not,  shouldest   thou  ever  behold  a 
new  persecution  kindled  against  our  hapless  race,  to 
aid  and  protect  them  as  God   shall  give  thee  power  : 
since  but  for    a    Hebrew's  pity    and    succour,    thou 
wouldest,  thyself,  ere  this,  have  been  in  the  darkness 
and  the  dust  of  death." 

I  pledged  me  not  to  forget  his  compassion,  but 
my  tears  now  began  to  flow  forth,  for  that  I  remem- 
bered with  great  sorrow,  the  defeat  of  all  my  hopes 
by  the  death  of  King  Richard ;  and  that  I  was  now 
friendless  and  alone  in  an  evil  world,  and  far  distant 
from  the  quiet  cloisters  of  Ely  IMonastery,  in  which 
until  this  time  I  had  found  a  home.  My  grief  was 
not  unmarked  by  Israel  of  Castile,  though  he  deemed 
not  truly  whence  it  spi-ang  ;  for  thinking  it  might 
arise  from  his  former  fierceness  of  speech  and  action, 
he  fortliAvith  again  assayed  to  calm  my  sorrows.  He 
kindly  grasped  my  hand,  and  bade  me  prepare  joyfully 
to  depart  on  the  morrow,  but  as  I  still  seemed  like  one 
who  had  little  desire  for  journeying,  he  deemed  that 
I  felt  me  too  weak,  and  thereupon  told  me  that  if  it 
were  so,  I   should  tarry  with   him   until  my  wounds 

G 


82  THK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENEXS. 

Avere  healed  and  my  strength  returned  again.  He 
farther  added,  that  if  I  would  name  my  kindred,  he 
would  seek  them  out,  and  carry  to  them  tidings  of 
what  had  chanced,  that  they  might  not  vainly  sorrow 
for  their  son.  Howbeit,  as  my  tears  continued  to 
flow  even  faster  than  before,  the  aged  Hebrew  seemed 
much  to  marvel  that  his  speech  did  not  comfort  my 
spirit,  and  thereupon  demanded  of  me  wherefore  I 
still  wept ;  desiring  that  I  would  plainly  tell  him  the 
cause  of  my  griefs.  At  length,  being  won  by  his  com- 
passionate discourse,  I  told  him  that  in  very  truth  I 
had  no  friends  then  remaining  to  whom  I  might  go, 
since  my  best  and  dearest  had  fallen  in  that  day's 
battle,  which  would  prove  unto  me  the  loss  of  all 
worldly  hope  ;  and  that  when  I  should  go  forth  from 
his  dwelling,  I  knew  not  whither  to  direct  my  steps, 
nor  how  to  provide  for  my  future  life. 

'Alas  !  poor  youth,"  said  the  Rabbi,  who  seemed 
greatly  to  pity  mine  unprotected  state,  "  well  said  the 
royal  Psalmist  that  we  are  strangers  and  sojourners, 
as  all  our  fathers  were.  But,  fear  thou  not,"  added  he, 
after  musing  for  a  short  space,  "  dry  up  thy  tears,  and 
hope  for  more  prosperous  days  ;  for  though  weeping 
may  endure  for  a  night,  yet,  saith  the  holy  David,  joy 
Cometh  in  the  morning.  If,  therefore,  thou  wilt  con- 
sent to  lodge  with  a  poor  despised  Jew,  thou  shalt 
be  unto  me  in  place  of  him  whom  I  have  lost,  to  eat 
of  my  bread  and  drink  of  my  cup,  until  thou  mayest 
discover  thine  own  kindred  ;  for  the  great  Lawgiver 


THE    LAST    OF    THE     PLANTAGENE TS.  83 

of  Israel  hath  written  '  The  stranger,  and  the  father- 
less, and  the  widow,  which  are  within  thy  gates,  shall 
come,  and  shall  eat,  and  be  satisfied  ;  that  the  Lord  thy 
God  may  bless  thee  in  all  the  work  of  thine  hand, 
which  thou  doest.' " 

Thus  did  I  find  the  hospitable  spirit  which  marked 
the  wealthy  Hebrews  of  old,  shine  forth  in  two  of 
their  most  oppressed  descendants  ;  for  the  compas- 
sionate and  pious  Naomi  joyfully  consented  to  Israel's 
charitable  purposes,  and  moreover  promised  that 
whiles  I  continued  in  their  dwelling,  she  would  watch 
over  my  welfare  as  though  1  had  been  indeed  their 
son.  And  all  this  was  in  truth  duly  performed :  by 
her  care  my  hurts  wei-e  speedily  healed,  and  as  my 
strength  came  back  again,  I  began  to  grow  taller  and 
more  vigorous  ;  whilst  the  softening  hand  of  Time 
gradually  closed  up  the  deeper  wounds  of  my  soul. 

In  setting  forth  this  part  of  my  life,  I  have  but 
little  to  note  touching  myself,  albeit  I  may  speak 
somewhat  concerning  the  friendly  Hebrews.  Their 
household  orderings  and  furniture  seemed  of  small 
worth,  though  peradventure  this  might  be  that  their 
wealth  might  not  call  forth  the  persecution  of  such 
as  were  ever  ready  to  misuse  and  despoil  those  of  their 
faith  :  but  unto  me  they  were  ever  bountiful  of  all 
things,  without  aught  of  covetousness  ;  and  I  would 
fain  believe,  that  for  mine  own  part,  I  had  nought  of 
ingratitude.  The  aged  Hebrew  never  once  intimated 
unto  me  that  my  maintenance  put  him   to   charges 


84  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

■which  gave  him  either  concern  or  trouble;  albeit  in 
matters  not  alike  costly,  he  would  shew  no  little  im- 
patience because  of  their  burthen.  I  sometimes, 
though  vainly,  sought  to  press  upon  him  part  of  the 
gold  given  unto  me  by  King  Richard ;  for  he  ever 
refused  it,  and  even  repressed  the  thanks  which  I 
would  oft  essay  to  pour  out  unto  him  with  all  the 
warmth  and  earnestness  of  youth. 

Nor  did  I  only  receive  food  and  shelter  from  the 
good  Jew,  but  such  instruction  as  he  could,  he  poured 
into  my  mind  ;  and  he  was  held  with  his  own  nation 
to  be  a  Rabbi  of  great  wisdom.  lie  taught  me  the 
sacred  language,  and  gave  me  divers  choice  lessons 
for  a  wise  and  virtuous  life,  taken  from  those  ancient 
Hebrew  Fathers,  who  writ  the  noted  books  of  the 
Talmud,  the  Mishnah,  the  Gemara,  and  the  like ; 
shewing  me  the  true  interpretation  of  their  wondrous 
histories  and  dark  sayings,  which  the  enemies  of  the 
Jews  have  perverted  both  from  ignorance  and  from 
malice. 

"  My  son,"  said  he  unto  me,  when  I  was  once  of- 
fering unto  him  my  thanks  for  his  unwearied  and 
continued  goodness,  "that  which  I  have  now  done  for 
thee,  shall  peradventure  be  blessed  unto  me  hereafter; 
even  as  the  life  and  good  deeds  of  the  righteous  shall 
be  blessed  unto  them  for  ever :  the  which  Me  are 
told  by  our  fathers,  in  a  certain  ancient  parable  re- 
lated by  them  for  the  instruction  of  their  children, 
and  called 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  85 


The  Journey  of  Hillel. 

"  Rabbi    Hillel,   of  whom   thou   mayest  not  have 
heard,  albeit  his  fame  in  Israel  shall  last  for  ever,— 
was  a  wise  and  holy  teacher  of  our  nation  in  the  days 
of  Herod,  ill-named  the  Great.     He  had  always  led  a 
pure  and  virtuous  life,  resisting  many  allurements  unto 
evil,    though    they    seemed    to   lead    to    wealth   and 
power;    and  especially   did  he   quell  all  impatience 
and  wrath,  though  he  was  often  tempted  to  anger  or 
hatred.     At  length  it  came  to  pass,  that  the  blessed 
Rabbi,  in  a  certain  journey,  drew  nigh  unto  a  deep 
and  black  river  over  which  he  must  go ;  on  the  banks 
whereof  he  beheld  a  rich  and  mighty  King  at  the 
head    of  a  conquering  army,  Avith  many  beauteous 
women,  imprisoned  soldiers  being  led  away  to  death, 
and    exceeding   great   treasure.      Rabbi   Hillel    then 
looked   behind   him,   and    saw   that    the  road  along 
which  they  had  passed  was  broad,   winding,  and  full 
of  briers,  over  fearful  rocks,  and   through   dark  fo- 
rests ;  whilst   that  which  he  had  trodden  was  a  nar- 
row straight  line,  through  green  meadows  and  groves, 
which  looked  the  fairer  for  being  seen  from  that  dis- 
tant spot.     He  next  turned  him  unto  the  waters  and 
said,  '  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the 
Universe !  who  bringest  the  sun   to  his  setting,  and 
the  traveller  unto  the  end  of  his  journey ;'  and  there- 
with laying  his  mantle  on  the  river,  he  seated  himself 


86  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

upon  it,  wrapped  it  around  him,  and  so  went  safely 
over.  The  King  and  his  host  were  left  wondering 
on  the  shore,  for  they  had  no  ships ;  and  anon  the 
waters  rose  mightily  upon  them,  so  that  they  were 
all  cai'ried  down  the  stream  and  destroyed  !" 

"And  now,  my  son,"  continued  Israel,  as  he  made 
an  end  of  his  story,  "  mark  well  the  secret  meaning 
of  these  words  of  the  ancient  wise.  The  river  was 
death  ;  the  two  roads  along  which  the  Rabbi  looked, 
were  a  good  and  evil  life,  which  shew  in  their  truest 
form  when  we  are  about  to  quit  this  world ;  and  the 
mantle  which  safely  and  happily  bore  him  over  the 
waters,  was  his  charity  and  good  works,  that  covered 
him  like  a  robe  when  his  soul  was  unclothed  of  it's 
fleshly  tabernacle.  They  pleaded  for  him  with  Hea- 
ven in  that  hour,  when, — like  the  evil  king  and  his 
host, — the  rich  lose  their  gold  and  possessions,  the 
wise  man  forgets  his  cunning,  the  worm  feedeth  on 
the  cheek  of  beauty,  the  sword  falls  from  the  hand 
of  the  conqueror,  and  even  crowns  and  sceptres,  in  the 
eyes  of  a  dying  monarch,  become  less  than  nothing 
and  vanity  !" 

Such,  then,  I  say,  were  the  Hebrew's  counsels  and 
conversation ;  but  I  may  not  forget  to  note,  that 
whilst  I  was  his  guest,  he  never  letted  me  in  the  de- 
votions of  my  Faith,  nor  pressed  upon  me  those  of 
his  own,  albeit  I  have  oftentimes  witnessed  his 
piety  and  his  prayers.  His  oratory  was  a  small  upper 
chamber,  looking  to  the  East,  and  in  part  decayed. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  87 

to  keep  in  his  mind  the  destruction  of  the  Holy  City, 
which  the  dwelling  of  every  Jew  must  in  some  man- 
ner declare ;  in  record  whereof  there  was  written  in 
Hebrew  upon  the  ruined  wall,  "  The  Memorial  of 
Desolation/'  with  that  verse  from  the  saddest  of  all 
the  Psalms,  "  If  I  forget  thee,  O  Jerusalem  !  may  my 
right  hand  forget  her  cunning!"  But  the  remem- 
brance of  that  once-blessed  spot,  was  unto  Israel  and 
Naomi  not  without  a  touch  of  joy,  from  the  thought 
that  at  the  consummation  of  all  things,  the  children  of 
Abraham  shall  return  to  it  again  in  triumph ;  and  it 
sometimes  formed  the  matter  of  those  ancient  sonsrs, 
with  which  the  good  Jewess  was  wont  to  cheer  me 
when  my  spirit  was  desponding.  She  chaunted  them 
to  the  sounds  of  a  psaltery  of  ivory  inlaid  with  gold, 
having  some  ten  or  twelve  strings,  wherewith  she 
made  marvellous  pleasant  music ;  and  of  these  lays, 
which  she  also  taught  unto  me,  here  followeth  one, 
which  I  have  essayed  to  put  into  the  tongue  and 
metre  of  our  own  nation. 

A  Hebrew  Melody. 

"  Thine  heart  is  sad,  thine  heart  is  sad, 
And  thoughts  of  sorrow  vex  thy  soul ; 

But  Judah's  God  can  make  thee  glad 

And  burst  the  clouds  that  round  thee  roll : 
Thy  broken  spirit  shall  be  whole, 

And  light  and  joy  arise  on  thee, 

To  end  thy  dark  captivity. 


H8  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS. 

For  all  things  own  His  wondrous  sway 
In  heaven,  or  earth,  or  ocean  wide  ; 

And  sun  and  shower,  and  night  and  day. 
Praise  Him  as  their  almighty  guide : 
E'en  the  cold  grave  in  vain  would  hide 

Our  sins  and  sorrows  from  His  sight 

AVhose  arm  is  rower,~whose  eye  is  Light ! 

The  sun-blight,  and  the  sickening  moon. 
And  hurtful  demons  He  shall  chase  ; 

Then,  fear  not,  since  the  Lord  shall  soon 
Awake  thy  tongue  to  gladsome  lays  ; 
Tuning  thine  heart  unto  His  praise, 

And  fi-om  His  treasured  blessings  shed 

A  double  portion  on  thy  head. 

Soon  shall  the  wintry  storms  be  o'er. 
And  all  the  floods  and  rains  be  past ; 

The  vines  shall  blush  with  grapes  once  more, 
And  flowers  upon  the  earth  be  cast : 
And  for  the  sad  and  howling  blast, 

Our  land  shall  hear  the  turtle's  voice 

And  the  glad  time  when  birds  rejoice. 

Yes,  He  hath  said  the  day  shall  come 
When  Zion  shall  in  glory  reign, 

When  shouting  to  their  beauteous  home 
Her  scattered  tribes  shall  march  again  ; 
When,  from  the  mountain  to  the  plain. 

Shall  Salem's  banner  be  unfurled. 

And  David's  sceptre — rule  the  world  !" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOURS    OF    IDLENESS    AND    SORROW. 

To  me  is  barr'J  the  door  of  joy  and  ease. 
There  stand  I  as  an  Orphan,  lone,  forlorn. 
And  nothing  boots  me  that  I  trequent  knock. 
I  Strange,  that  on  every  hand  the  shower  should  fall. 

And  not  one  cheering  drop  should  reach  to  me  ! 

Walter  Vooelwetde,  the  Mixnesinoer. 

I  am  treating  you  as  a  Roman  gentleman  did  St.  Augustine  and  his  mo- 
ther ;  I  shall  entertain  you  in  a  Charnel-house  : — the  sight  that  St.  Augustine 
most  noted  in  that  house  of  sorrow,  was  the  body  of  Caesar,  clothed  with  all 
the  dishonours  of  corruption,  that  you  can  suppose  in  a  six-months'  burial. 

Jeremy  Taylor's  Rule  of  Holv  Dying. 

My  wonted  strength  had  now  been  for  some  time 
perfectly  restored,  yet  made  I  no  attempt  to  quit  the 
dwelling  of  the  christian  Hebrew  who  had  so  long 
protected  me ;  albeit  my  spirit  would  oftentimes  re- 
volt at  the  remembrance,  that  the  true  son  and  heir 
of  Richard  Plantagenet  was  dependent  for  food  and 
shelter  upon  the  alms  of  a  stranger  Jew.  Even  the 
very  feeling  of  his  kindness  became  thus  grievous. 


90  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

yet  I  knew  not  how  to  alter  or  amend  my  condition, 
if  I  quitted  the  home  which  he  had  so  freely  accord- 
ed unto  me ;  and  whilst  I  thus  lingered  in  uncertain 
perplexities,  the  ever-spread  wings  of  Time  had  still 
continued  on  their  steady  flight,  IMonth  after  month 
arrived  and  fled  away,  the  seasons  came  on  in  their 
order  and  changed  at  their  appointed  hours ;  and  it 
seemed  as  if  I  only  remained  unaltered  and  una- 
mended, save  in  age  and  stature,  the  same  weak, 
wavering,  and  melancholy  being,  which  I  was  some 
twelvemonth  before  in  the  cloisters  of  Ely.  Nor  was 
I  altogether  free  from  fear  as  to  the  safety  of  my  pre- 
sent abode,  since,  from  my  long  dwelling  with  Israel 
of  Castile,  I  had  sometimes  heard  myself  scornfully 
named  as  the  Jew's  off'spring ;  and  the  cruel  fate  of 
his  real  son,  whom  I  somewhat  resembled,  was  not 
forgotten  either  by  myself  or  in  the  town  of  Leices- 
ter ;  for  there  were  dark  and  hostile  menaces  abroad, 
of  farther  vengeance  upon  the  fugitive  Jews  who  se- 
cretly lived  there :  and  whom  the  baser  and  fiercer 
sort  had  resolved  to  root  out,  as  a  race  of  beings  ac- 
cursed by  God,  and  therefore  to  be  abhorred  by  man, 
I  had,  also,  some  fears  for  Israel,  since  there  were 
not  wanting  those,  who,  rightly  deeming  me  to  be 
a  Christian,  avouched  that  the  Hebrew  detained  me 
in  his  dwelling  for  some  cruel  or  evil  purpose ;  so 
that  it  seemed  unto  me  but  all  too  likely,  that  his 
very  charity  might  at  length  lead  unto  his  destruc- 
tion. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  91 

The  sadness  of  these  thoughts,  and  the  gloomy  in- 
certitude  which  overclouded  my  future  life,  tended 
to  make  me  altogether  unlike  the  youth  of  my  own 
age,  with  whom  I  sometimes  consorted  in  the  disports 
natural  to  our  years ;  such  as  drawing  the  bow,  leap- 
ing and  running,  tossing  the  quoit  and  bar,  and  cer- 
tain other  games  wherein  I  engaged,  both  to  avoid 
sloth  and  strengthen  my  body.  Yet  had  I  but  few 
seasons  for  social  pastime,  and  of  those  few  I  disre- 
garded some ;  for  when  the  spirit  is  not  meet  for 
mirth,  it  will  profit  us  but  little  to  seek  for  lusty  and 
joyous  sports  ;  therefore  at  such  seasons  me  listed 
ratlier  to  encounter  some  grave  person  at  Tables,  or 
the  Nine  Mens'  IMorris ;  or  that  the  Hebrew  should 
instruct  me  in  the  wise  and  princely  play  of  the 
Chess,  which  men  say  was  brought  from  Chaldea,  or 
the  obscure  and  thoughtful  Philosopher's  Game.  I 
also  loved  greatly  to  see  the  sacred  Mysteries  taken 
from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  the  pleasant  Moralities, 
which  were  played  at  Leicester,  at  the  great  Feasts 
of  the  Church,  by  certain  cunning  clerks  and  reli- 
gious men,  upon  high  stages  richly  adorned  with 
wondrous  art  and  rare  scenes ;  wherein  you  might, 
as  it  were,  behold  the  very  histories  of  the  blessed 
book,  or  the  foulness  of  vice  and  the  excellency  of 
piety,  depicted  unto  the  life  in  most  choice  counter- 
feit and  action.  But  most  specially  did  I  delight  in 
the  solitary  and  thoughtful  art  of  fishing  with  an  an- 
gle, in  the  Soar  River,  beneath  the  walls  of  Leicester 


92  THE     LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENKTS. 

Abbey ;  which  seemed  the  more  meet  unto  me,  be- 
cause it  was  a  disport  permitted  unto  churchmen,  to 
whom  the  pastimes  of  hunting  and  hawking  were  al- 
together forbidden.  And  in  the  pursuit  of  this  most 
gentle  art,  I  have  since  read,  with  much  care,  the 
little  tome,  which  Dame  Juliana  Berners,  the  wise 
Prioress  of  Sopewell  Abbey,  near  St.  Alban's,  did 
put  forth  of  Hawking,  Hunting,  Fishing,  arid  the  Bla- 
zing of  Coat- Armours.*  Of  the  which  I  have  ever 
found  her  pleasant  words  to  be  most  true,  in  that  she 
saith,  the  Angler  hath  his  wholesome  walk  and  merry 
at  his  ease,  enjoying  the  sweet  savour  of  the  mead- 
flowers,  hearing  the  melodious  harmony  of  fowls,  and 
seeing  the  young  swans  and  other  water-birds,  with 
their  broods ;  the  which  in  sooth  seemed  unto  me 
better  than  all  the  noise  of  hounds,  blasts  of  horns, 
and  scrye  of  fowls,  that  hunters,  falconers,  or  fowlers, 
could  ever  devise.  I  loved  this  pastime,  also,  because, 
as  she  well  noteth,  whiles  it  is  a  solace  unto  the  body, 
it  is  healthful  to  the  soul ;  seeing  that  it  is  best  pur- 
sued in  loneliness,  when  we  may  serve  God  duly  with 
our  accustomed  prayers,  and  so  eschew  and  avoid 
many  vices.  Such,  then,  being  my  wonted  disports, 
in  the  games  of  the  rude  and  vulgar  of  my  young 


"  The  Book  of  St.  Alban's,  which  contained  the  treatises 
mentioned  above,  was  originally  printed  in  1486 ;  but  the 
tract  on  Angling  was  not  inserted  until  1496,  in  the  edition 
j)ublished  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETa.  93 

days,  such  as  "  Hand-in-and-hand-out,"  "  White  and 
Black,"  "  Making  and  Marring,"  "  Muzzle  the  Pig," 
and  divers  others, — I  had  but  little  skill  and  less 
liking.  And  not  seldom  laying  aside  my  pastimes  al- 
together, it  hath  more  contented  me  to  walk  in  the 
quiet  and  solitary  church-yard  ;  where  it  much 
soothed  my  spirit  to  know  that  they  who  were  once 
as  restless  and  anxious  as  I  then  was,  were  laid  at  rest 
serenely  and  for  ever  :  and  I  read  also  upon  the  tombs 
of  the  departed,  that  whether  the  evils  which  beset 
this  life  be  small  or  great,  brief  must  ever  be  the 
time  of  their  duration. 

But  of  all  those  solemn  scenes,  I  did  chiefly  take 
a  mournful  delight  in  going  unto  the  Monastery  of 
the  Grey-Friars,  now  overthrown,  but  which  once 
stood  near  St.  Mary's  Gate  in  the  south  wall  of  Lei- 
cester. A  long  square  of  buildings  girdled  in  a  Viri- 
darium,  or  garden,  containing  a  fair  green  sward, 
planted  with  wholesome  herbs,  trees,  and  flowers ; 
wherein  the  Franciscan  brethren  were  wont  to  delve 
for  two  hours  after  Prime,  and  the  sick  walked  to  get 
health  from  the  pure  air  and  the  smell  of  the  fresh 
plants.  Howbeit,  though  I  sometimes  lingered  in 
that  fair  spot,  I  went  most  unto  the  Church  of  the 
Monastery,  there  to  muse  over  the  low  and  dishonour- 
able grave,  wherein  had  been  laid  all  that  was  mortal 
of  my  brave  and  royal  father.  By  the  side  of  his 
narrow  sepulchre,  I  would  oft  recall  with  uuicJi 
sorrow,  my  first  and  last  memorable  interview  witli 


94  THE    r.AST    OF    THE    PLANTAOENETS. 

him  ;  when  his  dark  and  histrous  eyes,  now  closed  for 
ever,  were  turned  upon  me  with  wondrous  gen- 
tleness and  affection,  albeit  they  flashed  upon  the 
enemy  with  a  soldier's  dreadful  glances.  I  thought 
upon  the  amaze  with  which  I  had  looked  upon  the 
brightness  of  his  array,  when  he  was  making  him 
ready  for  the  fight,  and  then  came  the  remembrance 
that  his  brave  arm,  which  swept  away  all  before  it, 
was  now  held  down  by  the  cold  grasp  of  the  mightiest 
of  conquerors  ;  whiles  his  stout  and  regal  harness 
was  exchanged  for  a  coarse  winding-sheet,  and  a 
narrow  coffin  of  stone.  Then,  also,  with  such  sorrow 
as  no  wit  of  mine  can  ever  truly  pourtray,  I  bethought 
me  of  him  in  the  battle,  when  I  saw  him  encompassed 
by  a  host  of  timorous  foes,  struggling  like  a  lion  in 
the  toils,  and  yielding  only  in  death,  after  the  most 
noble  efforts  at  victory  and  vengeance.  Nor  could  I 
then  forget  what  had  of  late  been  told  unto  me,  of  the 
contumely  which,  as  I  have  afore  said,  was  cast  upon 
his  corse  by  the  haughty  victor,  who  could  find  an 
unworthy  joy  in  his  base  and  unhallowed  revenge, 
although  the  most  dishonour  recoiled  upon  his  own 
head.  I  say,  therefore,  that  when  I  remembered  me 
of  all  this,  I  was  sad,  very  sad  ;  3'et,  as  the  good  Sir 
Launcelot  Du  Lake  said  of  old  touching  the  valiant 
and  famous  King  Arthur,  "  I  trust  that  herein  I  did 
not  displease  God,  for  he  knew  well  mine  intent,  that 
my  sorrow  was  not  for  sin,  but  because  I  deemed  it 
might  never  have  an  end.     For  when  I  remembered 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  95 

and  called  to  mind  the  excellence,  bounty,  and  noble- 
ness, that  were  with  the  King ;  and  also  when  I  saw 
the  corse  of  tliat  stately  King  so  lie  in  that  cold  grave 
made  of  earth,  that  sometime  was  so  highly  set  in 
most  honourable  place,  truly  mine  heart  would  not 
serve  to  sustain  my  wretched  and  careful  body." 

Thus  full  of  sorrow  did  I  oft-times  muse  around  his 
resting-place  about  the  close  of  day,  and  even  after,  if 
the  good  Porter  or  Sacristan  of  the  Franciscan  Monas- 
tery did  not  bid  me  forth  for  an  idle  youth,  who 
vainly  loitered  away  his  hours  in  that  place.  For  as 
I  lingered  there,  I  did  secretly  wish  that  since  it  had 
been  denied  unto  King  Richard  to  remain  with  me  in 
life,  it  might  ere  long  be  given  unto  me  to  join  him 
again  in  death  ;  till  when  I  found  a  mournful  joy  in 
being  near  his  sepulchre.  It  fell  upon  a  certain  even- 
tide, some  twelve  months  or  more  after  my  arrival  at 
Leicester,  when  I  was  thus  musing  and  silently  weep- 
ing, and  intreating  of  Heaven  to  bestow  upon  me  the 
desire  of  my  heart, — that  a  Stranger  accosted  me,  and 
with  no  uncourteous  greeting  demanded  why  I  tarried 
in  the  Church  so  late.  To  this  I  replied,  that  "  I 
loved  to  pause  in  a  place  so  holy  and  solemn  ;  and  to 
think,  that  as  some  of  those  who  rested  there  had  per- 
adventure  once  lived  in  sorrow,  even  so  the  spirits 
which  were  then  afflicted,  should,  at  the  last,  find  an 
unbroken  quiet  in  the  tomb." 

"  Gramercy  for    thy  homily,  young     clerk,"    ex- 
claimed he  who  had  addressed  me,  "for  thou  must 


96  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

be  either  priest  or  philosopher  to  talk  me  thus  wisely 
with  such  green  years  as  thine  seem  to  be.  But  I 
trow,  boy,  that  thou  hast  learned  the  starling's  art 
thus  early  ;  and  only  repeatest  that  which  some  holy 
father  hath  spoken  in  thine  hearing." 

I  then  answered  him  that  I  had  no  such  mimicry, 
and  that  what  I  had  uttered,  such  as  it  might  be, 
was  in  very  truth  my  own. 

"Nay,  stripling,"  responded  he,  "jape  not  with 
me,  nor  take  my  words  in  dudgeon,  it  is  enow  that 
thou  sayest  over  thy  lesson  rightly  ;  since  to  look  for 
more,  or  that  thou  shouldest  feel  thus,  were  indeed 
but  stark  unreason." 

"  It  skills  not  unto  thee,"  answered  I,  somewhat 
angered  at  the  Stranger's  words,  "  whether  I  do  in- 
deed feel  thus,  or  not ;  and  yet,  peradventure,  if  my 
cause  of  woe  were  known,  he  who  now  replies  unto 
my  sorrows  with  a  jest,  might  pity,  if  not  befriend 
me."  Holding  it  to  be  at  the  least  irreverent  for  me 
to  dispute  longer  in  that  holy  pile  over  my  father's 
tomb,  I  turned  me  to  depart  without  looking  upon 
the  Stranger  ;  for  as  he  was  standing  in  the  deepest 
shadow  of  the  chancel,  it  would  have  been  wonderful 
had  I  noted  his  features.  But  upon  my  visage  fell 
the  little  light  that  now  gleamed  through  the  great 
Eastern  window,  before  which  I  had  been  directly 
standing ;  so  that  as  I  turned,  the  unknown  person 
caught  me  by  the  arm,  and  said  "Nay,  hold  thee 
awhile,  my   forward  youth,  methinks  this  is   not  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  97 

first  time  thou  and  I  have  been  in  this  town  together. 
Thy  face  seems  well  known  to  me,  and  not  less  thy 
passing    ready   speech:" — then,   after  looking  at  me 
more  closely,  he  exclaimed,  "by  St.  Mary  of  Leices- 
ter !  it  is  as  I  thought,  and  thy  being  upon  this  spot 
doth  confirm  it :"  to  which  he  added,  again  accosting 
me,  "  when  thou  wert  a  much  smaller  intip  than  thou 
art  now,  I  deem  that  it  was  more  than  once  my  task 
to  take  thee  from  the  school  of  Ely  Monastery  to  a 
certain  stately  palace  in  London.    Howbeit,  if  I  guess 
aright,  thou  wilt  better  know  that,  little  more  than  a 
year  past,    I   carried  thee  to  one  whom  thou   never 
canst  forget,  although  thou  wilt  never  look  upon  him 
again.     That  thou  art  the  same  stripling,  truly  I  can- 
not doubt,  albeit  thou  art  now  taller  in  stature  and 
stouter  in  limb;  but  since  I   find  thee  here  by  the 
mouldei-ing  bones  of  him  to  whom  I  conveyed  thee,  I 

will  call  thee "  and    here  he   lowered  his    voice 

almost  to  a  whisper, — ''Richard  Plantagenet !" 

At  these  words  I  sprang  towards  the  Stranger,  at 
once  remembering  his  brief  and  bold  speech,  and 
marking  somewhat  of  the  visage  of  the  noble  Knight, 
who  guided  me  unto  the  pavilion  of  King  Richard  on 
tlie  eve  of  his  last  fatal  battle.  Upon  this  I  demanded 
of  him  if  he  were  not  Sir  Gilbert  Ue  JMountford,  to 
which  he  replied  that  such  was  indeed  his  name ;  but 
adding  that  the  place  wherein  we  stood  was  all  unfit- 
ting for  the  conference  he  would  fiiin  have  with  me, 
we  quitted  the  Church  of  the  Grey-Friars  together. 

H 


CHArTER  VII. 

A  LEGEND  OF  LEICESTER,  AN  ASSAULT  ON  THE  JEWS, 
AND  THE  PICTURE  OF  A  CASTELLAN  IN  THE 
FIFTEENTH    CENTURY. 


Her  haggard  face  was  foul  to  see, 
Her  mouth  unmeet  a  mouth  to  be, 

Her  eyne  of  deadly  leer  ; 
She  nought  devised  but  neighbours  ill. 
She  wreak'd  on  all  her  wayward  will, 

And  marr'd  all  goodly  cheer. 

Harrington's  Witch  op  Wokey. 

The  rumour  quickly  spreading  itself  into  the  City,  the  populace,  believing 
they  should  do  the  King  a  pleasure,  immediately  broke  open  the  Jews'  houses, 
and  murdered  every  one  they  could  meet  with  ;  not  confining  their  rage  to 
their  persons,  but  destroying  likewise  their  habitations  with  fire.  Happy  were 
they  who  could  find  a  true  friend  to  shelter  them. 

Tovey's  Anglia  Judiaca. 


It  may  well  be  supposed  by  the  future  reader  of  this 
my  story,  that  I  was  indeed  right  glad  again  to  en- 
counter my  former  guardian,  unto  whom  all  England 
gave  the  praise  of  a  brave  soldier  and  most  worthy 
Knight ;  though  I  did  chiefly  honour  him  because  I 
deemed  him  a  relique  of  King  Richard,  who  had  ere- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS.  99 

while  held  him  in  great  trust  and  favour.  As  we 
went  out  of  the  iNIonastery,  I  learned  that  he  was  now 
Constable,  or  Castellan,  of  Leicester  Castle ;  unto 
which  he  courteously  invited  me  to  go  with  him,  that 
we  might  for  awhile  discourse  together  at  more  free- 
dom, whereto  I  consented  with  little  persuasion. 

Forth,  then,  we  went,  and  after  passing  along  the 
Roman   wall  of  the   Town,  by  St.  IMary's  Gate  and 
Church,   I  noted,  with   some  marvel,  that  instead  of 
going  directly  unto  the  Castle,  my  guide  silently  led 
me  round  it  on  the  South  side,  approaching  the  banks 
of  the  Old  Soar  river ;    wherein   were   shining  the 
bright  visage  of  a  full  moon,  and  hosts  of  little   stars 
like  golden  lamps  in  the  night-skies.     We  now  drew 
nigh  the   dwelling    of  the    Austin-Friars,   and   that 
wondrous  Bridge  called  "  the   Bow  ;"  because,  like 
one  that  is  bent  for  shooting,  it  stretches  across  the 
flood  with  a  broad  and  single  arch.     We  forthwith 
ascended  it's  high  and  steep  passage,  which  hath  but 
a  short  defensive  wall  to  guard  the  traveller  who  cros- 
ses it ;  and  never  shall  I  forget  that  as  we  walked  over 
it,  the  Knight  suddenly  paused,  and  willed  me  to  look 
earnestly  upon   one  of  it's  rude  and  broken  stones, 
bearing  divers  dark  stains,  which  stood  there  on  one 
side,  and   might   be  somewhat  higher  than  a   man's 
knee. 

"  To  behold  that  fatal  stone,"  said  Sir  Gilbert,  "have 
I  brought  thee  first  unto  this  place;  view  it  well,  and 
mark  what  I  am  about  to  relate  unto  thee.     Over  this 


100  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGKNET9. 

Bridge  rode  King  Richard,  high  of  heart  and  stout  of 
stomach,  what  time  he  followed  his  army  unto  his  last 
encampment  at  Stapleton,  whence  he  never  returned 
with  life.     As  he  drew  near  to  this  stone,  a  woman, 
lolty  as  the  tallest  spearman  in    our  host,   of  wild 
swarthy  visage,  with  black  hair  lianging  in  unkembed 
elf-locks,  and  red  tattered  garments,  suddenly  started 
up  before  him,  and  demanded  of  him  a  gold  Angel, 
that  she  might  bless  his  march  to  battle.  Whereupon  the 
King,  ill  brooking  that  delay,  seeing  that  his  soul  was 
enwrapped  in  the  coming  fight  and  flushed  with  the 
hope  of  victory,  hastily  commanded  her  from  his  path; 
but  in  urging  forward  his  plunging  charger,  his  spur 
struck  so  violently  upon  that  stone,  that  sparks  flashed 
from  it,  as  the  gilded  steel  smote  against  it.     Of  this, 
however,  I,  who  followed  behind,  took  little  note,  but 
the  Witch-woman, — for  such   I  verily  deem  her  to 
have  been, — then  uttered  a  wild  cry  of  laughter,  and 
said  in  a  voice  of  mockery,  '  Ride  on.  Sir  King  !  thou 
goest  forth  with  a  full  brave  train,  but  thou  wilt  re- 
turn with  a  greater ;  and  so  an  thou  wilt  not  buy  my 
blessing,  thou  shalt  bear  my  ban  free  of  cost !     Ride 
on.  Sir  King  !  the  foot  hath  but  stricken  to-day,  what 
the  head  shall  dash  against  to-morrow  !  for  as  surely 
as  ever  the  fire   flashed   betwixt  thy   spur  and  that 
stone,  so  surely   shall   thy  blood  flow  over  it   when 
thou  next  smitest  it,  and  many  here  shall  behold  it ! 
Ride  on,  Sir  King !  thy  coin  is  now  little  to  me,  but 
less  unto  thyself:   Ride  on.  Sir  King  !  we  have  met, — 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  101 

and  we  have  parted !'  and  with  these  words  she  has- 
tily strode  over  the  Bridge,  and  eftsoons  disappeared  !"' 

"It  was  not  my  fortune,"  continued  Sir  Gilbert, 
"to  witness  the  fulfilment  of  this  prophesy,  which  I 
soon  forgot  in  the  thousand  hasty  acts  of  making  rea- 
dy for  battle ;  but  when  some  days  had  fled  after  the 
fatal  conflict,  as  I  again  crossed  this  Bridge  at  more 
leisure,  I  marked  the  same  stone  then  all  stained  with 
blood,  whilst  a  gaping  crowd,  which  was  still  loiter- 
ing round  it,  affirmed  that  it  had  been  so  marred  by 
the  head  of  King  Richard  dashing  against  it,  as  in 
foul  array  his  corse  was  brought  back  to  Leicester. 
Then  remembered  I  what  the  Witch-woman  had  said; 
and  for  the  truth  of  what  those  rude  artisans  had  re- 
ported to  me,  both  Sir  Rice  Ap  Thomas  and  Sir  John 
Imberville  did  afterward  most  solemnly  avouch  !" 

We  now  left  that  fatal  spot  and  returned  unto 
Leicester  Castle,  where  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford 
dwelled  in  those  fair  and  spacious  lodgings,  erected 
by  the  stout  John  of  Gaunt  on  the  North-west  side 
of  the  fortress,  next  unto  St.  IMary's  Church.  Here 
we  retired  into  a  chamber  beyond  the  hail,  wainscoted 
with  oak,  strewed  with  rushes,  hung  with  tapestry, 
and  lighted  by  a  brazen  cresset  which  was  pendent 
from  the  roof;  and  whilst  the  Castellan  regaled  me  with 
a  cup  of  Rochelle  wine  and  a  salver  of  simnel-cakes, 
we  discoursed  more  at  large  concerning  King  Rich- 
ard, of  whose  history  he  told  me  divers  memorable 
passages,     I   also   briefly  recounted  unto  the  Knight 


102  THE    LAST    or    TIIK    PLANTAGEN15TS. 

my  fortunes  since  I  last  beheld  him,  telling  him  withal 
of  my  present  abode,  and  much  lauding  the  huma- 
nity of  Israel,  my  preserver ;  in  the  hope  that  Sir 
Gilbert  would  find  both  the  will  and  power  to  shew 
him  some  favour.  When  I  had  ended  my  own  story, 
he  straightway  told  me  that  the  secret  of  my  birth  had 
been  long  since  entrusted  to  him  by  King  Richard  ; 
in  accordance  with  whose  commands  he  first  carried 
me  to  St.  Mary's  Monastery  at  Ely,  to  be  bred  up  and 
instructed,  strictly  enjoining  the  Lord  Prior,  Roger 
Walkelyn  of  Westminster,  to  inform  him  from  time 
to  time  touching  my  well-being,  that  he  might  faith- 
fully discharge  his  service  unto  his  noble  lord.  He 
moreover  told  me,  that  he  had  divers  times  taken  me, 
when  but  of  tender  years,  unto  Crosby-house  in  Lon- 
don, also  by  command  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  be- 
fore he  was  Sovereign,  in  the  reign  of  King  Edward  the 
Fourth  ;  the  which  interviews  were  both  secret  and 
very  brief,  arising  from  my  father's  affection  for  his 
unavowed  offspring.  The  Knight  added,  too,  that 
after  the  late  battle  he  had  caused  a  diligent,  though 
vain,  search  to  be  made  for  me,  whereupon  he  con- 
cluded that  I  mvist  have  been  slain  ;  which  he  deemed 
but  all  too  likely,  from  my  rash  desire  to  behold  the 
conflict  too  nearly. 

And  now  I  began  much  to  marvel,  that  one,  who 
seemed  ever  to  have  been  constant  unto  King  Richard, 
should  be  as  high  in  the  trust  and  favour  of  his  direst 
foe,  who  had  prevailed  over  him  in  fight,  and  had 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  103 

even  seized  upon  his  crown.  Nor  could  I  withhold 
me  from  uttering  unto  him  my  notion  thereof,  as 
thinking  it,  in  my  poor  wit,  to  be  an  act  having  some 
touch  of  dishonour ;  imto  which,  however,  he  freely 
and  straitly  replied  after  this  manner. — "  I  deem  it, 
youth,  to  be  the  part  of  the  good  soldier,  ever  to  prove 
faithful  unto  his  King  whiles  he  liveth,  but  when  he 
dies,  so  doth  the  subject's  allegiance;  and  his  duty 
then  belongeth  unto  his  successor,  unless  the  Sove- 
reign leave  no  true  issue,  when  the  nation  claims  the 
bestowal  of  the  crown.  King  Richard, — unto  whose 
soul  may  God  be  gracious  ! — had  no  son  save  thee, 
whom  I  well  thought  was  slain :  but  had  I  known 
thou  wert  living,  I  should  have  done  thee  small  ser- 
vice by  proclaiming  thee  as  such,  or  by  unfolding 
what  had  been  so  long  hidden ;  for  of  a  surety  it  had 
been  much  distrusted,  and  had  put  thy  life  into  foul 
jeopardy.  Farther  than  this,  too,  I  know  nought  of 
thy  mother ;  and  therefore  any  act  of  mine  to  declare 
thee  as  King  Richard's  heir,  would  be  but  to  stamp 
bastardy  upon  thy  birth,  which  I  deem  to  be  pure, 
and  would  questionless  awaken  the  hatred  and  wrath 
of  King  Henry.  Trust  me,  therefore,  good  youth, 
that  thy  better  part  is  silence  ;  and  thy  safest  station 
obscurity  :  and,  so  far  as  my  power  reaches,  I  will  be 
thy  protector  and  guardian,  for  the  sake  of  him  from 
whom  thou  art  descended." 

Here  I  interposed  by  giving  him  many  thanks,  and 
saying,  that  in  speaking  my  poor  thoughts  I  had  not 


J  04  THK    I^AST    OF    TIIK    PI>ANTAGENETS. 

referred  unto  mine  own  claim  upon  the  crown,  having 
long  since  awakened  from  all  such  dreams  of  ambi- 
tion, but  that  I  enquired  only  touching  his  own  ac- 
tions with  Harry  Tudor. 

"  And  touching  mine  own  acts  with  Harry  Tudor," 
repeated  Sir  Gilbert,  with  a  somewhat  impassioned 
voice,  as  if  slightly  angered, — "  for  I  did  well  mark 
thy  doubts  thereof;  but  the  name  of  De  Mountford 
must  never  be  enlinked  with  aught  of  dishonour. 
The  fight  was  scarcely  over, — certes  the  blood  had 
not  dried  upon  our  swords,  and  I  wot  well  that  both 
hosts  were  still  panting  with  the  heat  of  battle, — 
when  Sir  Reginald  Bray  brought  forth  the  crownet  of 
thy  father's  helmet,  Lord  Stanley  set  it  upon  Rich- 
mond's head,  and  the  shouting  armies  forthwith  hailed 
him  as  King.  Nor  was  this  all,  for  the  voice  of  Eng- 
land itself,  in  brief  space  after,  confirmed  this  hasty 
election  ;*  and  'twas  not  for  me  to  stand  forth  alone 
in  the  camp  and  the  nation,  and,  denying  the  act  of 
both,  vainly  to  snatch  at  his  crown,  or  refuse  him 
mine  allegiance.  I  had  no  other  King  to  follow,  and 
therefore  in  pure  faith  I  took  service  with  him ;  for 
the  wont  of  my  House  hath  ever  been  to  fight  for  the 
crown,  and  by  the  might  of  God,  I  will  do  it,  though 
it  be  set  upon  a  hedge-stake  ! 


*  King  Henry  VII.  was  crowned  for  the  first  time  at  West- 
minster by  Cardinal  Thomas  Bourchier,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, on  Sunday,  October  30th,  1485. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    I'LANTAGENETS.  105 

"  JMatters  being  thus/'  continued  the  honest  Castel- 
lan, in  somewhat  more  tranquil  a  voice,  "  many  other 
loyal  and  right  good  servants  of  King  Richard  did  as  I, 
without  stain  unto  their  duty  ;  and  I  thank  his  Grace 
that  now  is, — for  so  must  I  call  him, — he  received  us 
with  fair  bounty,  saying  that  as  he  well  knew  I  had 
been  true  unto  my  late  lord  until  he  deceased,  he 
would  never  doubt  to  trust  me  whiles  he  should  live 
and  reign.  In  token  of  which  confidence,  a  short 
while  after  he  sent  me  a  patent  under  his  broad  seal, 
making  me  Constable  of  this  Castle  of  Leicester ; 
whereof  some  two  hundred  years  past  mine  ancestors 
were  the  stout  Earls,  as  you  may  read  in  the  ancient 
chronicles  of  this  realm,  and  look  upon  their  tombs  in 
yonder  Abbey." 

Yet,  notwithstanding  this  discourse  of  Sir  Gilbert's, 
it  still  seemed  unto  me,  who,  it  should  be  remember- 
ed, was  but  of  few  years  and  small  wisdom, — some- 
what strange  that  he  who  had  risen  and  flourished  in 
the  favour  of  my  father,  should  now  live  not  less 
greatly  under  the  very  usurper  by  whom  the  true 
King  had  been  slain.  Howbeit,  I  have  since  known 
many  men  who  have  been  esteemed  both  valiant, 
wise,  and  honourable,  who  have  nothing  scrupled  to 
do  the  same  act  under  the  like  changes  of  fortune  ; 
and  have  sought  first  to  establish  their  own  advance- 
ment, little  recking  what  became  of  their  fidelity. 
But  though  mine  experience  had  not  at  this  time 
armed  me  with   sucli   reasons  for   the   governance  of 


10(J  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PJ.ANTAOENETS. 

my  thoughts,  as  after  years  have  supplied  unto  me, 
yet,  was  I  not,  albeit  only  a  very  youth,  so  unskilled 
in  worldly  prudence,  as  to  blight  all  my  hopes  of  fu- 
ture favour  from  the  Castellan  by  farther  objecting 
his  inconstancy  in  taking  office  and  reward  under  the 
Earl  of  Richmond ;  but  contrariwise,  when  he  con- 
tinued to  speak  to  me  with  much  kindness,  I  replied 
unto  him  with  courteous  words  and  many  thanks. 

Thus  remained  we  in  discourse,  until  the  bell  of 
the  Castle-chapel  tolled  midnight ;  for,  listening  with 
anxious  ear  unto  his  speech,  I  had  forgotten  all  else, 
and  marked  not  how  the  hours  had  fled  away :  but 
then  I  arose  in  haste  to  depart,  since  it  was  but  a 
short  distance  from  the  Castle  to  the  ancient  Jewry- 
Wall  near  St.  Nicholas'  Church,  where  Israel  of  Cas- 
tile secretly  resided,  in  one  of  those  dark  and  misera- 
ble vaults  which  were  the  former  dwellings  of  the 
Jews  in  Leicester.  But  now  the  fortress  was  shut  for 
the  night,  and  Sir  Gilbert  would  in  no  case  permit  me 
to  go  forth ;  and  although  I  had  some  misgivings  that 
my  delay  would  affright  my  Hebrew  protectors,  yet 
was  I  forced  to  yield  me  unto  his  commands,  and  be- 
take me  to  the  chamber  wherein  he  had  ordered  me 
to  be  bestowed.  It  was  a  fair,  yet  small  room  of 
carved  wood,  in  a  gallery  above  the  great  hall  of  the 
Castle,  vaulted  with  stone  arches,  and  strewed  with 
fresh  rushes  from  the  banks  of  the  Soar :  'broidered 
hangings,  though  somewhat  decayed,  decked  the 
walls  and  bed,  and  in  a  narrow  niche  were  set  a  little 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAOENETS.  107 

image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  her  Son,  a  desk 
with  a  book  of  Offices,  and  a  stand  for  a  lamp.  In 
the  tall  and  high  window  the  arm.s  of  John  of  Gaunt 
were  curiously  wrought  in  divers-coloured  glass ;  and 
upon  looking  forth  from  it,  I  might  see  the  pleasant 
bowers  and  green-swards  of  the  Castle-garden,  with 
an  ancient  stone  summer-house,  and  the  embattled 
walls  of  the  inner-bailey. 

Albeit  the  days  of  which  I  do  now  speak  have  long 
ago  passed  away,  yet  have  I  oft-times  since  felt  the 
sorrow  of  a  wounded  conscience,  when  I  have  brought 
to  mind  the  blameful  weakness  which  did  stay  me 
from  departing  early  on  the  morrow  unto  the  good 
Hebrews,  Israel  and  Naomi,  to  make  known  to  them 
the  fair  fortune  which  had  befallen  me.  Howbeit,  I 
may  note  this  in  mine  own  defence,  that  I  might  not 
go  forth  when  I  would ;  although  I  deny  not  that 
the  state  in  which  I  now  lived,  and  the  goodly  train 
of  ready  serving -men  and  soldiers  which  waited  on 
me  and  courted  me  on  all  sides  to  divers  pastimes,  so 
dazzled  my  boyish  sight  and  captured  mine  imperfect 
wit,  that  I  put  off  from  hour  to  hour  my  return  unto 
the  Jews'  house,  until  three  days  had  wholly  depart- 
ed. But  then  I  would  be  letted  of  my  purpose  no 
longer,  but  sought  with  all  speed  to  redeem  my  fault ; 
and  hastened  forth  unto  the  Wall  of  the  Jewry. 

Upon  drawing  nigh  unto  that  spot,  however,  as  I 
passed  up  the  High-cross  street  of  Leicester,  T  heard 
a  wild  uproar,  and  beheld  crowds  of  the  baser  people 


108 


THE    LAST    OK    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS. 


all  in  tumult,  and  wondrously  disordered  at  somewhat 
which  had  but  newly  chanced  there.  I  marvelled 
much  as  to  what  it  might  be,  though  I  had  but  brief 
space  for  doubt,  since  it  was  speedily  told  me  on  all 
sides,  that  some  vile  Jews  had  been  assaulted  by  the 
townsfolk,  despoiled  of  the  wealth  which  they  had  se- 
cretly gathered  to  the  great  damage  of  Christian  men, 
and  themselves  cast  forth  and  foully  misused;  all 
which  it  was  said  was  only  befitting  such  unbelieving 
usurers.  Whilst  I  listened  unto  these  reports  in  great 
affright,  others  of  the  lewd  rabble  passed  by  me  bear- 
ing part  of  the  goods  plundered  from  the  Hebrews ; 
of  the  which  I  too  soon  discovered,  divers  things  that 
I  well  knew  had  belonged  unto  mine  innocent  pro- 
tectors !  In  the  hands  of  one  were  Naomi's  psaltery, 
and  a  most  choice  molten  mirror,  such  as  the  an- 
cient Israelites  used  in  Egypt  and  Canaan,*  lustrous- 


"  The  use  of  these  metallic  mirrors  by  the  Jews  appears  to 
have  been  of  very  high  antiquity,  and  they  are  expressly  men- 
tioned in  four  places  in  the  Holy  Scriptures ;  the  earliest 
being  Job  xxxvii.  18.  about  1520  years  B.  C.  "  Hast  thou 
spread  out  the  sky,  which  is  strong,  and  as  a  molten  looking, 
glass  ?"  This  is  explained  as  alluding  to  the  steel  mirrors 
of  the  East,  which  are  convex,  and  of  the  bi'illiant  deep  blue 
colour  of  an  Arabian  sky.  The  other  passages  will  be  found 
in  Exodus  xxxviii.  8.  B.  C.  1491,  where  the  mirrors  are  sup- 
posed to  be  of  copper  or  brass,  or  a  mixed  metal  of  silver 
and  copper;  Ecclesiasticus  xii.  11.  B.  C.  about  200  ;  and  the 
AVisdom  of  Solomon  vii.  26,  which  was  probably  written  after 
the  Christian  Era.     There  is  a  curious  application  of  the  ex- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  109 

ly  and  most  fairly  planished ;  which  I  did  ever  think 
gave  back  the  visage  more  true  and  life-like  than  it 
can  be  shown  by  the  noted  glasses  of  Venice,  which 
are  in  these  days  held  in  so  much  greater  repute ;  for 
this  was  formed  of  real  Castilian  steel,  and  better  me- 
tal there  might  not  be  known.  Could  I  now  have 
doubted  that  my  benefactors  were  indeed  some  of 
those  who  had  thus  been  assailed,  knowing  this  to  be 
the  very  mirror  which  they  so  much  prized,  and  upon 
which  I  had  so  often  looked ; — yet  might  I  question 
it  no  longer  when  I  beheld  in  the  hands  of  another 
ruffian,  that  ancient  Hebrew  roll  of  the  holy  Prophet 
Esay,  of  the  which  I  have  afore  spoken,  with  it's 
goodly  embroidered  cover.  He  carried  also  the  very 
rosary  and  fair  illumined  missal,  which  the  charitable 
Jew  had  provided  for  my  devotion  and  comfort,  whilst 
my  body  lay  bowed  down  by  my  wounds  and  sick- 


treme  hardness  and  power  of  reflection  of  these  mirrors  no- 
ticed  in  the  text,  in  Gascoigne's  satirical  poem  entitled  "  The 
Steele  Glass,"  published  in  1576,  which  is  one  of  the  oldest  spe- 
cimens of  English  blank-verse.  The  use  of  metal  for  mirrors 
appears  to  have  been  first  superseded  by  that  of  glass,  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  though  it  continued  common  in  France  for 
a  hundred  years  more ;  and  until  the  improvement  of  glass- 
houses about  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  Vene- 
tian mirrors  were  sold  all  over  Europe  and  the  East  Indies. 
In  the  Privy  Purse  Expenses  of  Henry  VIII.,  September 
11th,  1532,  the  King  paid  to  a  Frenchman  who  brought  him 
looking-glasses  and  dart-heads,  the  sum  of  £4. 13s.  4d. 


110  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNKTS. 

ness ;  foi-,  albeit  he  knew  well  that  I  abhorred  his 
unbelief  as  he  did  mine,  yet,  as  I  have  said,  he  hin- 
dered me  not  in  my  way  of  worship,  trusting  that 
God  would  both  pardon  and  prosper  him,  who  was  his 
servant  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 

With  two  gold  Nobles  out  of  my  royal  father's  purse 
and  coinage,  I  redeemed  these  few  things  of  the  riot- 
ous crew  which  was  bearing  them  away  ;  but  all  that 
my  fears  could  whisper  of  what  might  have  befallen 
Israel  and  his  aged  partner,  speedily  proved  to  be  in- 
deed the  truth.  My  sorrow  for  their  despiteful  per- 
secution was,  however,  soon  much  increased,  from  a 
rumour  which  spread  through  the  town,  that  the  chief 
cause  of  their  cruel  treatment,  was  a  belief  that  one  of 
the  Hebrews  had  drawn  away  a  Christian  boy  to  be- 
come a  Jew  and  renounce  his  Saviour  !  and  that  when 
the  fierce  multitude  searched  his  dwelling  and  found 
not  me,  to  whom  this  false  accusation  did  refer, — it  was 
declared  that  he  had  slain  me  because  I  had  refused 
to  profane  the  cross  of  Christ.  Of  all  that  the  hapless 
Hebrew  could  allege  in  his  defence,  the  wild  mul- 
titude would  hear  nothing ;  and  every  incidence, 
which,  rightly  measured,  should  have  proved  his  in- 
nocency,  only  made  the  more  against  him,  from  their 
warped  judgements  and  evil  thoughts  of  his  tribe  and 
nation. 

In  vain,  therefore,  did  I  now  seek  the  lowly  dwel- 
ling upon  the  Jewry-Wall,  wherein  I  had  found  so 
ready  a  shelter ;  since  upon  tlie  spot  where  it  stood. 


TH?:    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNKTS.  Ill 

was  to  be  seen  nought  save  bui'ned  and  blackened 
ashes,  wild  ruin,  and  spoliation.  And  though  I  forth- 
with hastened  unto  all  the  wonted  haunts  of  my  bene- 
factor, yet  might  I  no-where  behold  him,  nor  even 
hear  whither  he  had  gone,  that  I  might  have  sought 
him  out  and  poured  my  tears  over  his  all-unmerited 
woes,  of  which  I,  alas  !  had  been  the  hapless  cause. 
I,  therefore,  at  length  put  an  end  unto  my  wanderings 
by  returning  unto  the  Castle  in  much  weariness  and 
disappointment ;  and  sorrowfully  gave  up  farther 
quest,  inasmuch  as  I  knew  not  whither  else  to  direct 
my  steps.  I  wept  and  mourned  heavily  for  many 
days,  for  that  I  could  not  find  my  Hebrew  friends  to 
console  them ;  insomuch  that  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mount- 
ford  would  sometimes  blame  my  too  great  sorrow  in 
lamenting  them,  because  they  were  only  of  mean 
rank  and  JeAvish  unbelievers.  Yet  so  often  as  I 
passed  through  Leicester,  I  failed  not  to  renew  mine 
enquiries  after  them,  albeit  I  prospered  not  beyond 
this;  that  I  made  it  plain  unto  many,  that  I  was 
indeed  the  youth  who  was  falsely  believed  to  have 
been  maltreated  and  slain.  For  at  the  first  1  was  not 
known  of  the  townsfolk,  because  of  the  fair  attire  in 
which  the  good  Castellan  had  clothed  me  ;  since  he 
deemed  my  former  coarse  black  habit  all  unbefitting 
one,  whose  father  was  a  King,  and  whose  guardian 
was  the  Constable  of  Leicester  Castle. 

I  pass  over,  though  truly  I  can  never  forget,  the 
soothing  words  which  were  addressed  unto  me  by  Sir 


112      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENET9, 

Gilbert  and  liis  most  excellent  Lady,  Isabel  ;  an 
heiress  of  the  noble  house  of  that  famous  William  Mar- 
shall, Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  remained  constant 
unto  King  John,  when  almost  all  the  Peers  of  Eng- 
land were  in  arms  against  him,  as  may  be  seen  in  the 
goodly  History  of  Matthew  of  Paris.  Under  their 
protection  and  instruction,  I  did  gradually  forget 
much  of  my  sorrow  and  former  mood  of  melancholy, 
and  betook  me  heartily  unto  the  duties,  studies,  and 
pastimes,  which  were  now  assigned  unto  ine  through 
the  next  eight  months ;  whereby  my  mind  and  body 
were  greatly  strengthened  and  adorned,  and  my 
manners  made  gentle  and  courteous  befitting  my 
birth.  To  attain  unto  these  ends,  I  again  returned 
unto  my  book-learning  under  Father  Ranulphus,  the 
Castle-Chaplain,  and  also  became  Page  unto  Sir 
Gilbert  De  IMountford  ;  who  had  me  taught  to  carve 
in  the  banquet  and  dance  in  the  masque,  to  ride  and 
bear  tlie  spear,  wield  the  sword,  run  at  the  ring  and 
quintain,  to  hunt  and  hawk,  wear  armour,  draw  a  six- 
feet  bow  with  a  stout  arm,  and  send  a  bolt  five- 
score yards  straight  to  the  mark. 

During  mine  abode  here,  which  I  have  ever  deem- 
ed to  be  a  most  joyous  part  of  my  life,  I  was  wont 
to  range  through  the  wide  Castle  of  Leicester,  and 
learned  to  know  the  names  and  import  of  all  it's 
many  bulwarks  and  chambers,  with  their  several  uses 
in  times  of  war.  Thus,  I  marked  it's  broad  walls, 
loopholes,  and  embrasures,  for  withstanding  assaults 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  113 

and  shooting  forth  arrows  and  heavy  missiles  ;  I  noted 
the  deep  fosse  which  girdled  in  the  whole  fortress  ; 
it's  strong  barbican-gate,  turrets,  and  drawbridge  ; 
it's  fair  outer-bailey  and  chapel ;  and  it's  inner-bai- 
ley encompassing  the  garden,  rooms  of  state,  and 
the  tall  keep  and  dungeon,  wherein  was  to  be  found 
it's  chiefest  strength. 

Here,  then,  I  sojourned  until  about  the  beginning 
of  June,  in  the  year  1487;  when  I  remember  that 
one  morning  a  Pursuivant,  habited  in  a  livery  of 
green  and  white,  with  the  badge  of  a  red  dragon  upon 
his  back  and  breast,  arrived  at  the  Castle,  and  deliver- 
ed unto  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford  this  Letter  of 
Summons,  fairly  writ  upon  parchment,  tied  with  a 
silken  cord  and  bearing  a  seal ;  receiving  from  him 
free  entertainment  and  a  Royal  of  gold  for  his  pains. 

"  By  the  King, 

Henry  R. 

Trusty  and  right  welbeloved.  We  grete  you  wele, 
and  in  asmoche  as  We  have  ty dings  that  certaine  re- 
belles  have  entered  on  the  xxivth  daye  of  this  moneth 
in  our  land  of  Irland,  with  a  fayned  boye,  sent  by  the 
grete  malice  of  the  ladye  Margarete  of  Burgoigne, 
surmising  him  to  be  the  son  of  the  Due  of  Clarence, 
accompanyed  by  th'  Erie  of  Lincoln,  the  Lord  Lovel, 
and  a  grete  multitude  of  savage  Irisshemen  and 
Almaynes ; — and  for  that  there  be,  even  in  this  Our 
Royaume  of  England,  divers  personnes  wel-afFected 

I 


114  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

to  them  and  enemyes  unto  Us, — We  wold  have  your 
advis  and  counsaile  in  suche  matters  as  We  have  to  do 
for  the  subduying  of  these  Our  rebelles.  Wee  there- 
fore praie  you  to  make  all  delegens  to  come  unto  Us 
at  Our  Palace  of  Westmynster,  immedyatelye  after 
syght  hereoff,  to  knovv'  Our  farther  mynde  and  plea- 
sure: and  of  this  faile  ye  not  as  Wee  do  specyallye 
truste  you.  Given  under  Our  Signet  at  Our  Manoir 
of  Shene,  this  viijth.  daye  of  Jvme,  in  the  second 
yere  of  Our  reigne. 

To  Our  trusty e  and  right  welbeloved  Knyght, 
Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford,  Constable  of  Our 
Castle  of  Leicester,  Our  Counsaillour  :  These 
with  speede." 

It  was  not  without  much  doubt  and  misgiving,  that 
the  Knight  received  this  sudden  and  absolute  sum- 
mons unto  the  King's  presence;  for  that  he  greatly  fear- 
ed some  evil  tongue  had  spoken  of  him  as  well-afFected 
towards  the  rebels  in  Ireland,  and  the  counterfeit  Earl 
of  Warwick.  But  to  speak  Heaven's  pure  truth  I 
never  heard  worse  than  this  uttered  by  him,  that 
"were  he  certified  that  the  real  son  of  George  of  Cla- 
rence, were  in  arms,  he  would  draw  no  sword  against 
him,  but  would  rather  go  to  him  and  offer  him  his  al- 
legiance ;  since  he  had  followed  Henry  Tudor  only 
because  he  knew  of  no  better  Prince."  Howbeit, 
this  was  no  doubt  matter  enough  for  suspicion  and 
question,  and  I  ween  it  was  carried  to  tlie  Court  by 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  115 

a  certain  soldier,  who  feigned  to  be  a  foreigner,  and 
spake  but  little  and  corrupt  English ;  for  that  having 
been  sent  unto  London  with  certain  letters  of  weight 
as  the  most  incurious  messenger,  he  was  taken  into 
Henry's  own  service  and  never  returned. 

Nevertheless,  Sir  Gilbert  might  not  withstand  the 
King's  Letter  of  Summons  without  much  farther 
danger,  and  therefore  taking  me  wnth  him,  we  set  out 
from  Leicester  witli  goodly  array  and  all  speed;  so  that 
in  three  days  from  the  time  of  our  departure,  we 
entered  London,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I 
gazed  upon  that  most  ancient  and  stately  of  Cities. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LONDON  IN  1487 PROSCRIPTION  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF 

YORK. 


Of  the  noblest  Cities  of  the  world  which  F;ime  doth  celebrate,  that  of  Lon- 
don is  the  one  principal  seat  of  the  Kingdom  of  England  ;  whose  renown  is 
spread  abroad  very  far,  yet  she  transporteth  her  products  and  her  commerce 
much  farther.  Happy  is  she  in  the  healthfulness  of  her  air,  in  the  Christian 
Religion,  in  her  munition  and  strength,  the  nature  of  her  situation,  the  ho- 
nour of  her  Citizens,  and  the  virtue  of  her  matrons;  very  pleasant  in  her 
sports  and  pastimes,  and  replenished  with  honourable  personages. 

Fitz-Stbphkn's  Description  of  London. 

The  root  of  all  was  the  discountenancing  of  the  House  of  York,  which 
the  general  body  of  the  realm  still  affected.  This  did  alienate  tlie  hearts  of 
the  subjects  from  him  daily  more  and  more. 

Lord  Bacon's  History  of  Henry  VII. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  recount  in  this  little  tome, 
the  many  marvels  which  my  young  eyes  noted  at  my 
first  entering  London,  after  we  had  passed  through 
the  fair  town  of  Iseldon  ;  which  standeth  nigh  there- 
unto, in  a  wondrous  pleasant  country  and  healthful  J 
air,  whence  we  approached  the  Northern  boundaries 
of  the  City.      Certain   others,  more  cunning  clerks 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  117 

than  I,  have  better  writ  of  these  matters  ;  and  espe- 
cially one  of  late  times,  a  choice  Latin  Poet,  and  per- 
fect scholar ;,  whom  none  have  ever  equalled  in  his 
deep  enquiries  into  the  antiquity  of  this  City  and 
Kingdom,  whose  books  and  learning  shall  questionless 
remain  as  the  most  undoubted  monuments  unto  dis- 
tant ages.* 

We  passed  along  divers  broad  ways  made  through 
certain  fields,  to  the  vill  of  Old-bourne,  on  the  North 
banks  of  a  clear  little  water,  which  flows  into  a  wider 
stream  called  the  Fleet,  because  it  runneth  with  a 
swift  current ;  wherein  I  saw  divers  barques  laden 
with  fuel,  corn,  fish,  or  other  merchandise,  floated 
up  unto  the  very  doors  and  wharfs  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  those  parts,  unto  their  great  and  singular  com- 
modity. Across  this  channel,  which  cometh  from 
the  Thames  at  the  Black  Friars,  stretcheth  a  fair  stone 
bridge ;  and,  as  we  rode  slowly  over  it,  and  I  looked 
around  me  with  some  wonder,  I  demanded  of  Sir 
Gilbert  De  Mountford  what  stream  that  might  be. 

•  The  person  here  referred  to  is  evidently  the  famous  Anti- 
quary, John  Leland,  who,  in  1533,  made  a  litei'ary  and  antiqua- 
rian tour  of  England,  of  amazing  minuteness  and  research,  by 
virtue  of  a  commission  from  Henry  VIII.  He  also  made 
large  collections  for  a  history  of  London,  which  it  was  his  in- 
tention to  have  published,  but  before  it  was  completed  he  died 
in  a  state  of  mental  derangement,  April  18th,  1552  ;  after  which 
several  of  his  papers  were  printed  by  Stow,  the  remainder 
being  lost  and  never  recovered. 


118  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

Unto  which  he  answered,  "  This  water,  good  Richard, 
is  now  the  head  of  Fleet,  though  it  was  once  of  more 
high  repute  and  called  the  River  of  the  Wells ;  for 
story  saith,  that  in  the  First  Edward's  days  it  was 
broad  and  deep  enough  to  bear  some  ten  or  twelve 
tall  ships  with  all  their  lading,  which  might  safely 
ride  at  this  bridge.  But,  truth  to  say,  'tis  now  little 
better  than  a  foul  moat  or  dyke,  to  girdle  in  London, 
by  reason  of  it's  wasted  waters,  which  are  drawn  off 
by  mills,  it's  channels  also  being  narrowed  by  wharfs, 
so  that  it's  name  of  river  passed  away,  and  'twas  then 
called  Tremill,  or  Turnmill  brook ;  but  though  it's 
course  hath  been  somewhat  amended  again,  yet  hath 
it  never  been  restored  unto  it's  ancient  breadth  and 
depth :  the  which  debasement  may  well  figure  forth 
the  fortunes  of  some  men  of  high  birth  brought  down 
to  low  estate." 

And  as  he  spake,  methought  it  did  indeed  excel- 
lently well  express  mine  own  lot,  since  the  full  tide 
of  honour,  which,  for  a  few  brief  hours,  once  floated 
my  brave  and  richly-lnden  hopes,  had  now  shrunken 
up  into  a  narrow  channel,  of  small  spring  and  uncer- 
tain supply.  Yet  did  I  reflect  also,  that  however  de- 
based those  waters  might  be  in  the  esteem  of  men,  they 
nevertheless  flowed  in  onward  course  to  the  Thames, 
and  thence  unto  the  broad  sea :  and  even  so,  me- 
thought, let  me  stand  as  I  may  in  worldly  honour, 
I  shall  at  length  pass  "  unto  the  house  appointed  for 
all  living,"   "  with  Kings  who  had  gold,  and  Princes 


r 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANT AGENETS.  119 

who  made  desolate  places  for  themselves ;"  whilst 
mine  undying  part  shall  pass  away  from  that  earthy 
darkness,  unto  it's  future  home  in  the  boundless  ocean 
of  Eternity. 

But  whiles  we  lingered  thus  at  the  Fleet  river. 
Time,  which  loitereth  never,  was  hastening  the  day 
towards  it's  close  ;  albeit  there  was  still  light  enough 
me  to  feast  my  roving  sight,  upon  scenes  which 
unto  me  were  both  new  and  wondrous.  From  the 
bridge  we  went  along  the  field-pathway  to  the  West 
of  Old-bourne,  and  drew  nigh  the  fair  Church  of  St. 
I  Andrew,  and  the  Hospitium  of  Master  Thaive,  be- 
longing thereunto ;  after  which  we  continued  down  a 
green  road,  with  some  few  homely  cotters'  houses, 
which  I  afterwards  learned  to  know  right  well  as 
Sho-Lane,  whence  we  came  unto  the  famous  and 
stately  highway  called  Fleet-street,  because  it  crossed 
over  that  river  by  another  bridge  of  stone  at  Ludgate. 
Yet,  though  this  road  hath  ever  been  the  main  passage 
betwixt  Westminster  and  the  City  of  London,  it  was 
not,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  so  well  provided  of 
shops  and  dwellings,  as  it  hath  come  to  be  in  these 
later  days.  It  was  at  least  some  twenty  feet  wide, 
though  much  of  it  on  the  North  was  indeed  open 
country  places,  pasture-fields,  marshes,  or  gar- 
dens trimly  ordered ;  but  it  nevertheless  did  contain 
many  fair  houses,  curiously  builded  after  a  gorgeous 
and  gallant  sort,  with  three  storeys  one  over  another  : 
albeit  the  excellency  of  the  frames  now  made,  far  sur- 


120  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

passeth  the  finest  of  the  old.  The  doors  closed  with 
two  leaves,  and  the  outsides  of  the  walls  next  the 
street  were  either  of  pale  foreign  bricks,  hard  flint, 
or  white  plaster  fashioned  into  panels  betwixt  the 
timbers,  and  the  inner  parts  were  well  strengthened 
with  wainscot-work  ;  the  windows  being  often  glazed 
with  glass  in  the  most  costly  wise,  although  some  had 
only  fine  linen  dipped  in  oil  or  amber,  to  keep  out 
the  wind  and  let  in  the  light.  The  shops  of  this  place 
seemed  unto  me  also  many  and  stately,  as  the  jVIil- 
liners,  which  sold  the  gay  daggers,  ouches,  girdles,  and 
other  wares  of  Milan  ;  the  Clothworkers,  which  had 
woollens  of  divers  colours  hung  in  their  windows  ;  the 
Goldsmiths,  which  set  forth  store  of  rich  plate ;  and 
a  world  of  other  trades,  each  being  known  by  some 
sign  or  device,  rarely  sculptured  or  pencilled  above 
the  dwellings,  whiles  the  owners  themselves  stood  at 
their  doors,  tempting  the  passengers  with  many  words 
to  become  their  customers. 

So  passed  we  along,  through  a  lofty  embattled  gate 
with  square  towers,  built  of  grey  stone  and  called 
Temple-bar,  because  it  standeth  nigh  a  fair  Inn  which 
of  old  belonged  unto  the  Knights-Templars.  This 
led  us  unto  the  Strand,  a  country  road,  paved  but  in 
part,  and  often  of  bad  passage,  bounded  by  many 
fields  and  gardens,  in  which  appeared  the  stately 
houses  erected  by  the  nobles  and  gentry ;  both  to  be 
out  of  the  turmoil  of  the  City,  enjoy  the  pleasant  air 
of  the  river  by  which  they  stood,  and  it's  opposite 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  121 

green  banks  whereunto  they  looked,  and  to  be  near 
the  Court  and  Palace  of  Westminster.  Then  came 
we  to  the  village  of  Charing,  where  I  beheld  that 
carved  wooden  Funeral-cross  where  rested  the  hearse 
of  Eleanor  of  Castile  ;  which  leaving  behind  us,  with 
the  IMews  for  the  King's  falcons,  we  passed  the  Pa- 
lace of  the  Lord  Archbishop  of  York,  standing  in 
wide  and  pleasant  gardens  by  the  river,  and  joining 
unto  the  verge  of  the  Court  and  Citv  of  Westminster. 

"Within  that  King-like  pile,"  said  the  Castellan  unto 
me  in  a  low  voice  as  we  approached  this  spot,  "  within 
those  walls,  Richard,  sometime  dwelt  thy  father;"  and 
truly  the  sight  of  that  royal  seat,  encompassing,  as  it 
seemed,  so  many  stately  halls,  and  chambers,  did 
awaken  in  my  soul  the  sorrowful  feelings  of  blighted 
greatness,  and  I  asked  of  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford 
to  point  out  unto  me  the  very  lodging  in  which  King 
Richard  had  been  wont  to  rest.  The  Knight,  however, 
hastily  repressed  my  lofty  speech,  and  told  me  that 
as  I  wished  to  'scape  danger,  I  must  in  no  wise  use 
such  words,  since  'twould  be  deemed  little  less  than 
treason  to  call  my  father  Richard,  King  ;  his  claim 
unto  the  crown  having  been  denied  and  set  aside  by 
the  Parliament,  so  that  if  I  would  not  place  me  in 
great  jeopardy,  I  must  be  content  to  speak  of  him 
but  as  Duke  of  Gloucester. 

I  would  fain  have  made  some  reply,  but  Sir  Gilbert 
told  me  that  for  such  discourse  we  must  take  another 
time  and  place  ;  willing  me  rather  to  note  on  either 


122  TIIK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

hand  of  me  the  stately  Hall  of  Westminster,  the  most 
royal  banquetting-house  in  the  realm,  and  the  ancient 
and  venerable  Abbey,  wherein  so  many  Sovereigns 
had  been  crowned  in  their  lives,  and  sepultured  after 
their  deaths.  "  Here,  then,"  said  he,  "  you  may  well 
guess,  that  we  are  in  the  very  midst  of  King  Henry's 
friends,  where  speech  like  thine  would  be  neither 
wise  nor  safe  ;  and  as  it  will  not  be  for  mine  own  good 
to  have  thee  much  about  me,  I  now  purpose  bestow- 
ing you  with  one  hard  by,  who  was  an  approved 
friend  to  him  you  wot  of."  Whereupon  he  gave  one 
of  his  servitors  charge  to  conduct  his  train  unto  a  cer- 
tain place,  and  commanding  me  to  follow  him,  we 
walked  forward  into  a  dark  street  in  Westminster,  and 
stopped  at  the  door  of  an  ancient  and  ruined  house 
not  far  from  St.  Peter's  Abbey. 

Unto  this  portal  was  hung  a  large  scroll  of  vellum, 
which  set  forth  in  broad  black  text  letters,  that  within 
there  dwelled  a  cunning  Scribe  and  Enluminour ;  and 
upon  knocking  we  were  admitted  through  a  gloomy 
passage  into  a  vaulted  stone  room,  having  therein  a 
carved  oaken  desk  or  pew,  for  writing  or  study,  lined 
with  tapestry,  whilst  in  different  parts  of  the  chamber 
were  scattered  divers  large  tomes  bound  in  red  or 
black  velvet,  with  some  rolls  of  genealogies  and  coat- 
armours  most  choicely  depicted.  There  were  also  to 
be  seen  several  of  those  rare  books  imprinted  by  a 
wondrous  art,  the  which  had  been  of  late  brought 
into  this  realm  by  Master  William  Caxton,  from  be- 


THE    LAST   OF    THE    TLANTAGENETS.  123 

yond  the  seas.  He  who  admitted  us  unto  the  house, 
was  a  grave,  yet  shrewd-looking,  man,  whose  pale 
visage  seemed  to  speak  of  much  labour  and  late 
watching ;  and  he  was  habited  in  a  russet  dress  edged 
with  sable  fur,  wearing  pouch,  knife,  penner,  and 
inkhorn,  like  a  scribe.  It  was  still  bright  day-light, 
although  it  was  now  about  seven  of  the  clock  and  full 
two  hours  after  supper ;  whereupon  he  seemed  to 
marvel  much  at  our  late-coming,  and  when  we  were 
entered,  demanded  of  Sir  Gilbert  what  he  would  have 
with  him. 

"  I  came  hither,"  replied  the  Knight,  "  to  seek  for 
a  certain  Scribe  and  limner  of  coat-armours,  by  name 
Master  St.  Leger,  dwelling  at  the  Watchful  Dog 
near  the  Sanctuary  ;  and  if  two  years  age  have  not 
strangely  altered  mine  acquaintance  Avith  his  face, 
thou  shouldest  be  the  very  man,  whom  I  remember 
in  the  service  of  Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  as 
Blanc-Sanglier  Pursuivant,  at  his  last  battle  on  Bos- 
worth  Field." 

"  Fair  Sir,"  answered  the  Scribe,  first  changing 
deadly  pale,  and  then  waxing  wondrous  red,  "  I  am, 
'tis  true,  a  Scribe  and  Enluminour  of  arms,  and  do 
also  dwell  at  the  sign  you  have  named,  but  I  am  cal- 
led only  William  the  Illuminatoi*,  and  claim  not  to  be 
of  any  noble  house;  and,  moreover,  I  am  servant  unto 
the  Lord  Rivers,  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  most 
noble  Lady  Margaret,  the  King's  mother,  of  excellent 
bounty ;  so  that  ye  wot  well  I  may  not  be  him  for 
whom  you  take  me." 


124      THE  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

"Tush,  man  !"  replied  the  Castellan,  "away  with 
this  guisarding,  which  never  can  blind  such  as  know 
thee  as  well  as  I  do:  look  better  upon  your  friends, 
take  my  pledge,  and  remember  Sir  Gilbert  De 
Mountford,  if  thou  hast  not  forsworn  the  House  of 
York  and  Plantagenet ;  I  trow  that  thou  wert  less  of 
a  craven  when  thou  did'st  spread  thy  tabard  over  the 
King's  naked  body." — With  these  words  the  Knight 
gave  unto  the  Scribe  a  faded  piece  of  a  broom-plant 
and  flower,  which  he  drew  forth  from  his  bosom ;  and 
which,  as  I  had  read  in  the  choice  Norman  History 
of  Ordericus  Vitalis,  was  the  ancient  device  of  the 
Plantagenets,  wherefrom  they  did  first  take  their 
name.  As  the  Scribe  received  the  token,  his  eyes 
became  suddenly  lighted  up  with  gladness,  and 
grasping  the  Castellan's  hand,  he  exclaimed,  "  By  the 
Keys  of  St.  Peter  !  Sir  Knight,  you  are  right  wel- 
come, albeit  because  I  knew  you  not^  I  at  first  dis- 
sembled ;  for  the  friends  of  York,  as  you  doubtless 
wot  well,  are  proscribed  and  scattered,  and  therefore 
do  I  marvel  to  find  you  coming  to  the  Court,  unless 
indeed  you  were  summoned  hither  by  the  King." 

"  'Tis  even  so,  good  Master  St.  Leger,"  answered 
Sir  Gilbert,  "  I  trow  that  I  once  stood  fairly  in  his 
Grace's  favour,  seeing  that  he  made  me  his  Constable 
of  Leicester  Castle  ;  but  for  all  his  smooth  words  and 
acts  of  grace  to  his  opposers,  J  begin  to  suspect  him 
shrewdly,  and  deem  that  he  hates  the  Yorkists  in  his 
heart,  though  the  most  of  the  realm  affects  them,  for 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENRTS.  125 

how  hath  he  discountenanced  the  Queen  ;  albeit  he 
may  not  put  off  her  coronation  much  longer  if  lie 
would  keep  him  safely  upon  his  throne." 

"  Perchance  it  may  be  so,"  responded  our  host, 
"  but  this  is  neither  wise  nor  safe  discourse  for  the 
ears  of  a  youth  like  your  page,"  pointing  unto  me ; 
"albeit  he  hath  a  wondrous  semblance  to  one  whom 
I  have  lamented  with  much  sorrow,  and  may  never 
forget." 

"  Right,  right,  good  fellow,"  said  Sir  Gilbert,  "  he 
hath,  and  not  without  reason  ;  so  content  thee,  and 
look  not  doubtingly  upon  him,  nor  deem  that  I  have 
so  little  wariness  as  to  bring  thee  a  babbling  boy, 
whose  tongue  would  talk  our  heads  from  our  shoul- 
ders. Nay,  I  have  that  to  tell  thee  of  him,  which 
will  fire  thy  loyal  heart  like  a  trumpet-call;  so  fear 
not,  but  tell  us  like  a  man  how  matters  stand  in  Lon- 
don, for  thou  art  too  honest  to  be  a  counterfeit." 

Master  St.  Leger  answered  to  this  by  saying,  that  as 
they  had  brief  time  for  conference  or  explanation,  he 
would  be  content  to  receive  the  honourable  Kniffht's 
report  of  me ;  adding,  however,  that  if  I  were  a  scho- 
lar, perchance  I  would  rather  turn  over  the  pages  of 
some  of  those  fair  illumined  histories,  to  listening 
to  their  converse.  He  then  secured  the  chamber- 
door  and  covered  it  with  the  hangings,  whilst  Sir 
Gilbert  replied  to  him  in  a  lower  tone,  "  Ye  say  well. 
Master  St.  Leger,  the  boy  is  bookish  enow,  and  fairly 
read,   seeing  that  the  good  fathers  of  Ely  had  him 


126     THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAOENETS. 

betimes;  albeit,  if  I  judge  him  rightly,  he  will  find 
more  content  in  our  discourse  than  in  the  fairest  tome 
London  can  shew  him." 

Howbeit,  not  to  seem  too  curious,  I  seated  me  a 
little  apart  from  them,  and  took  up  divers  of  the 
books,  some  of  which  were  adorned  with  most  choice 
limnings :  but  as  they  talked  of  the  story  and  sad  fate 
of  my  House  and  kindred,  of  Harry  Tudor's  oppres- 
sions, and  his  unsettled  sway,  of  the  discontent  of  the 
realm  and  it's  general  affection  for  the  White  Rose,  of 
the  several  competitors  for  the  Crown,  and  of  the 
restoration  of  the  line  of  York,  mine  eyes  wandered 
over  the  pictured  pages,  without  taking  in  the  matter 
they  recorded,  or  marking  the  beauteous  forms  and 
tints  which  were  depainted  thereon.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Valerius  Maximus  recounted  the  brave  actions 
and  wise  sayings  of  the  noble  and  ancient  Romans ;  it 
was  in  vain  that  the  glorious  Tale  of  Troy  was  spread 
out  before  me ;  even  the  sweet  and  spirit-stirring 
Romaunt  of  King  Arthur  I  looked  upon  vain;  and 
the  pleasant  histories  of  the  Gesta  Romanoriim  lay 
unmarked  beneath  mine  eyes,  whilst  I  listened  anxi- 
ously and  diligently  to  the  converse  of  the  Knight 
and  the  Pursuivant. 

I  remember  me  that  the  latter  told  Sir  Gilbert,  that 
the  Houses  of  York  and  Plantagenet  were  then  sub- 
dued to  little  more  than  a  name,  which  the  King 
seemed  to  desire  to  make  powerless  and  void.  On 
the  last  day   of   February,  in  the   first    year  of    his 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  127 

reign,  he  had  covenanted  that  the  Earl  of  Hunting- 
don should  marry  Catherine,  the  natural  daughter  of 
my  father.  King  Richard,  giving  her  a  dowry  of 
certain  manors  to  the  yeai'ly  sum  of  two  hundred 
pounds.  My  cousin,  Edward  Plantagenet,  the  eldest 
son  and  heir  of  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  at  this 
time  about  seventeen  years  old,  he  had  shut  up  close 
prisoner  in  the  Tower,  deeming  him  to  be  the  last 
male  of  his  name  ;  whilst  his  sister  ]\Iargaret  remain- 
ed uncared  for  excepting  by  captivity.  Even  the 
Queen-mother  of  his  own  consort,  he  had,  by  an  act 
of  his  Privy-council,  cloistered  in  Bermondsey  Ab- 
bey, after  seizing  upon  all  her  lands  and  rents,  upon 
the  far-fetched  pretence  that  she  had  taken  two  of 
her  children  from  sanctuary,  and  delivered  them  unto 
the  late  King  Richard.  Some  of  her  daughters  were 
indeed  left  with  her,  but  there  was  even  then  a  wily 
device  afoot  for  sending  both  her  and  them  out  of  the 
realm,  to  marry  King  James  III.  of  Scotland,  the 
IMarquess  of  Ormond,  and  the  Duke  of  Rothsay,  the 
Scotish  King's  son  :  howbeit  this  compact  was  spoil- 
ed in  the  making. 

But  although  many  persons  thus  yielded  unto 
Henry's  force,  and  many  things  conspired  to  pros- 
per his  designs,  yet  the  Queen -Dowager,  Elizabeth, 
did  not  rest  at  Bermondsey  without  much  complaint 
of  his  scorn  of  her  daughter  in  not  causing  her  to  be 
crowned,  "  This  I  know  for  a  truth,"  said  Blaster 
St.  Leger  ;  "  for  having  now  left  being  a  Pursuivant, 


128      THE  LAST  OP  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

and  betaken  me  unto  the  writing  out  and  enlumining 
of  books,  I  have  disguised  my  name  and  family,  and 
am  oft  employed  by  the  learned  Master  William  Cax- 
ton,  the  Printer,  to  trace  in  his  books  divers  bloom- 
ing-capitals, of  red  and  blue  letters.  My  skill  in 
making  limnings  for  manuscripts  and  emblazoning 
of  coat-armours,  hath  caused  him  to  present  me  unto 
his  own  patrons,  the  Lord  Rivers,  Lady  JNIargaret  the 
King's  mother,  and  divers  beside,  now  in  great  power, 
by  whom  I  am  well  maintained  and  protected. 

"  It  is  now,  perchance,  more  than  a  month  past, 
that  I  was  commanded  by  the  Lady  Blargaret  to 
carry  a  fair  book  of  Master  Caxton's  Golden  Legend 
unto  Bermondsey  Abbey  to  the  Queen,  who  was 
then  sojourning  there  for  a  season  with  her  mother. 
It  happened  that  she  had  gone  forth  to  walk,  and 
whiles  I  waited  her  return  in  an  ante-chamber,  I 
heard  in  a  covered  gallery  near  me,  divers  voices  of 
women ;  one  seeming  in  proud  sorrow  and  scorn, 
another  low  and  soft,  as  of  sweet  music,  which  ever 
best  beseemeth  them,  and  a  third  not  less  gentle,  like 
the  speech  of  some  innocent  child." 

"  It  was  this  last  which  began,  saying,  '  you  are 
sad,  my  mother,  and  why  I  pray  you  ?  is  not  my 
sister  a  Queen  ?  and  do  not  we  live  full  merrily  in  this 
fair  Abbey,  with  it's  green  gardens  and  gay  flower- 
plots  ?  good,  then,  my  mother,  wherefore  do  you 
weep  }' — '  Wherefore .''  thou  simple  chit,'  said  the  el- 
der speaker  in  a  voice  of  mournful  anger,   '  Oh  Hea- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  129 

ven  !  have  I  not  cause  enow^  in  the  oppression  of  our 
House,  the  seizure  of  my  lands,  and  mine  imprison- 
ment in  this  place  ?  albeit  thou,  poor  Bridget,  deem- 
est  it  to  be  a  right  joyous  cage.     And  what  though 
thy  sister  be  indeed  a  Queen,  yet,  good  Anne,'  con- 
tinued the  voice,  as  if  addressing  some  elder  daughter, 
'  she  lacketh  the  open  rite  of  crowning;   and  that  at 
the  hands  of  one  who  dares  to  fly  from  his  paction, 
and  who,  if  she  had  not  been,  would  have  worn  no 
crown    himself!' — 'But   perchance.  Madam,'   said  a 
gentle  voice  in  reply,  as  if  of  the  person  last  spoken 
to,  *  peradventure,  she  shall  have  it  anon,  and  it  may 
be  but  delayed  awhile,  and  not  refused.' — '  God's  me  ! 
daughter  Norfolk,'  again  exclaimed  the  first  Lady,  '  is 
not  delay  refusal  }  though  not  that  open  one  which  a 
bold  bad  man  would   utttr  ;    but  a  wily  putting-ofF 
worthy  only  of  him  who  devised  it.' — '  Truth,  mine 
honoured  mother,'  answered  the  elder  daughter,  '  yet 
will   not  our   loudest  and   bitterest  plaints  avail    us 
aught:     if  we    be    wronged,    therefore,    patience    is 
better  than  vengeance,  which  will  natheless   fall  in 
due  place  and  season.' — 'Talk  not  of  patience  unto 
me,'  replied  her  mother,  'if  thou  art  child  of  mine, 
the  daughter   and  sister  of  a  Queen,  thou  canst  not 
choose  but   share  mine  anger  at  this  continued   con- 
tempt of  the  rights  of  Elizabeth.      Was  it  not  mainly 
by  my  favour  and  device  that  this  wily   Tudor  was 
lifted  unto  his  present  high  estate,  and  shall  he   out- 
reach me  even  at  mine  own  game  ?'  " 

K 


130  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

"  Wisely,  as  methought,  avoiding  to  oppose  her 
mother's  passions,  the  elder  daughter  now  appeared 
chiefly  to  endeavour  to  calm  them  ;  saying  '  I  trow  it 
is  indeed  my  duty  not  frowardly  to  cross  your  Grace, 
yet  if  mine  own  poor,  though  sincere,  thoughts  be  in 
aught  worthy  your  ear,  they  would  fain  woo  you  to 
avoid  all  new  scenes  of  strife.  It  is  not,  I  ween,  for 
you  to  learn  that  sorrow  is  enlinked  with  greatness 
like  it's  shadow,  and  that  they  who  soar  highest 
soonest  meet  the  tempest;  sith  the  dark  storm-cloud 
that  bursts  upon  the  mountain's  top,  often  leaves  the 
sheltered  valley  in  peaceful  lowliness.' — '  Be  thine, 
then,  such  inglorious  safety  ;'  replied  her  mother,  '  and 
let  me  possess  rule  and  greatness.  My  heart,  like  the 
guardian-cliffs  of  Britain,  would  brave  both  billow 
and  storm-blast,  did  I  not  feel  that  the  place  and 
powers  of  action  are  denied  to  me,  and  that  I  must 
still  feign  submission  and  content.' 

"  They  now  went  forth  from  the  gallery,  the  two 
younger  females  still  essaying  with  soothing  words  to 
calm  the  disordered  spirit  of  the  elder  Lady,  whom  I 
had  discovered  to  be  no  other  than  the  widowed  Queen 
of  the  late  King  Edward,  with  her  daughters  Anne, 
Duchess  of  Norfolk,  and  the  Lady  Bridget  or  Bride, 
now  some  seven  years  old.  I  was  next  summoned 
into  another  apartment,  where  I  might  behold  them 
together  with  the  present  Queen  ;  but  though  all  were 
passing  fair,  and  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  not  the  least 
so,  yet  that  lovely  and  gentle  child,  the  Lady  Bride, 


THE     LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS.  131 

did  most  enchain  mine  attention ;  so  beauteous  was 
her  hair  of  paly  gold,  so  mild  were  her  eyes  of  clear 
blue,  and  such  a  heavenly  bright  look  had  she  of  in- 
nocence and  devotion,  wliilst  her  stature  was  fair  and 
erect,  and  much  beyond  her  years." 

"  Cry  thee  mercy,  honest  friend,"  said  Sir  Gilbert, 
at  this  place,  "thou  art  a  passing  curious  observer  of 
women,  and  a  shrewd  listener  to  boot  ;  but  I  trow  the 
good  Queen-mother  will  soon  be  more  content,  when 
that  the  coronation  shall  be  fixed.  And  whom  do  men 
say  shall  wed  the  Lady  Bride,  Master  St.  Leger  ?  " 

"  She  is  to  be  'spoused  to  God,  when  she  cometh 
of  age  to  take  the  veil,"*  returned  our  host,  "  which 
will  lock  up  another  spring  of  the  House  of  York." 

"  That  were  in  truth  a  shrewd  pity,"  responded  the 
Castellan,  to  the  Scribe  in  almost  a  whisper,  some- 
times looking  towards  me  :  "  an  she  were  now  but 
some  seven  or  eight  years  older, — their  blood  would 

unite  well  ;  for  that  youth  is "  and  his  voice  was 

lost  unto  my  hearing. 

"The  son  of ,  say  est  thou?"  was  the  broken 

and  wondering  response  of  JMaster  St.  Leger. 


•  Various  periods  have  been  assigned  for  the  admission  of 
Nuns  into  Conventual  society,  though  the  lawful  age  was  after 
they  had  passed  their  twelfth  year  ;  and  when  they  had  spent 
a  year  in  a  Religious  House  they  were  considered  as  virtually 
professed.  The  usual  time  of  admission,  however,  for  a  Nun, 
was  at  sixteen,  but  consecration  did  not  take  place  until  the 
age  of  twenty.five. 


132  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

"  Even  so,"  answered  Sir  Gilbert,  "  a  Steer  of  the 
Silver  Boar,  as  thou  may  est  see  by  his  ruddy  face  and 
blue  eyes  :  he  is  now  fitted  for  good  or  evil,  since  he 
can  hold  a  pen  or  grasp  a  weapon,  though  I  know  not 
where  to  bestow  him  in  these  troublous  times." 

"  Leave  him  for  a  season,  then,  with  me,"  rejoined 
the  Scribe  :  "  his  own  safety  will  keep  him  silent,  and 
I  can  employ  him  in  mine  art  until  we  may  see  how 
to  act  farther." 

Here,  then,  ceased  their  conference,  when  the 
Castellan  briefly  informed  me,  believing  that  I  had 
been  all  along  intent  upon  my  book, — that  I  should 
dwell  for  the  present  with  Master  St.  Leger,  until  he 
might  better  provide  for  me.  We  afterwards  par- 
took of  a  brief  repast  together,  during  which  they 
had  but  little  further  converse  ;  whereupon,  wearied 
with  my  journey  and  bewildered  as  to  the  true  pur- 
pose for  the  which  I  had  been  brought  unto  London, 
I  entreated  to  go  to  rest,  and  was  forthwith  shewn 
unto  a  little  vipper  chamber,  by  Magdalen,  Master  St. 
Leger's  ancient  and  sole  servitor. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VISIONS    OF    GREATNESS,    AND    AN     ENGLISH    FEAST    OF 

LANTHOUNS. 


No  victor,  when  in  battle  spent, 
(  When  he  at  night  asleep  doth  lie 

f  Rich  in  a  conquer'd  monarcli's  tent, 

E'er  had  so  vain  a  dream  as  I. 


isiR  William  D'Avenant. 


Tlie  wakeful  shepherd  by  his  flock  in  field. 

With  wonder  at  that  time  far  off  beheld 

The  wanton  shine  of  thy  triumphant  fires, 

I'laying  upon  the  tops  of  thy  tall  spires  : 

Thy  goodly  buildings,  that  till  then  did  hide 

Their  rich  array,  opened  their  windows  wide. 

When  Kings,  great  peers,  and  many  a  noble  dame. 

Whose  bright,  pearl-glittering  robes,  did  mock  the  flame 

Of  the  night's  burning  lights,  did  sit  to  see 

How  every  senator,  in  his  degree, — 

Their  guard  attending, — through  the  streets  did  ride 

Before  their  foot-bands,  graced  with  glittering  pride 

Of  rich-gilt  arms,  whose  glories  did  present 

A  sunshine  to  the  eye,  as  if  it  meant 

With  the  fair  cresset-lights  shot  up  on  high. 

To  chase  dark  night  for  ever  from  the  sky. 

RIGHARO    NiCCOLLS'    LONDON'S    ArTILLERV,    1616. 

I  KNOW   not  whether  the  springs  of  ambition  were 
quickened  in  me  at  my  very  birth,  but  it  is  certain 


134  THE    I^AST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

that,  after  my  royal  descent  was  made  known  unto  me, 
I  was  too  often  led  away  by  the  vain  thought  that  I 
was  the  lawful  heir  imto  a  crown  ;  the  which  more 
years  and  greater  wisdom,  have  at  last  convinced  me 
to  have  been  all  unreal  and  untrue.  With  such  am- 
bitious fantasies,  therefore,  in  my  mind,  upon  stretch- 
ing myself  upon  my  narrow  couch  at  Master  St. 
Leger's  dwelling,  my  first  considerations  were  to  un- 
ravel, to  the  best  of  my  poor  wit,  what  had  been  the 
Castellan's  real  intent  in  bringing  me  at  this  season  up 
to  London,  and  what  dignity  I  might  be  called  to  take 
vipon  me. 

That  he  with  whom  I  was  now  to  sojourn  was  a 
staunch  friend  unto  the  House  of  York,  I  felt  me  to  be 
right  well  assured  of,  and  perchance  both  he  and  the 
Knight  had  some  device  a-foot,  which  argued  no  good 
unto  him  who  was  then  King ;  and  for  a  moment  my 
overheated  brain  conjured  up  before  me  the  wild 
thought,  that  they  had  a  purpose  of  displacing  him  to 
set  me  upon  his  throne,  and  that  Sir  Gilbert's  friend- 
ship towards  me  might  have  sprung  from  the  desire 
that  I  should  aid  him  in  his  designs.  This  I  knew  of 
him,  at  least,  that  he  was  a  bold  forward  man,  and 
one  that  would  ever  be  doing,  who  could  trim  his  sail 
to  catch  the  wind  as  it  might  blow  ;  albeit  of  late  he 
had  seemed  much  disappointed  in  his  hopes,  and 
wondrously  abated  in  his  zeal  for  the  King,  where- 
upon I  did  at  times  think  mys-elf  the  subject  of  his 
plots  to  disquiet  the  realm. 


THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  135 

J'rom  all  that  I  had  heard,  it  appeared  unto  me  cer- 
tain that  great  attempts  were  at  this  time  making  to 
overthrow  Henry  Tudor,  and  also  I  understood  that 
there  was  one  in  Ireland  who  had  ah-eady  taken  the 
name  and  royalty  of  a  King,  having  been  crowned 
there  this  Lent  by  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  and  others ; 
yet  were  there  many  doubts  touching  his  real  dignity 
and  meetness  for  a  throne,  the  which  were  afterwards 
shewn  to  be  well-founded,  he  being  no  other  than  a 
low-born  knave,  a  baker's  son,  named  Lambert  Sim- 
nell,  though  at  this  time  it  was  not  commonly  known. 
These  suspicions  led  me  vainly  to  think  that  some  who 
had  affected  my  father.  King  Richard,  might  deem  it 
better  to  claim  the  realm  as  my  true  inheritance ;  and 
the  more  I  pondered  thereon,  the  less  questionable 
did  it  seem  unto  mine  ambitious  folly.  I  remembered 
full  well  that  the  noble  King  Richard,  the  night  be- 
fore his  death  at  Bosworth,  had  told  me  that  should 
his  be  the  triumph,  mine  honourable  birth  should 
forthwith  be  declared  unto  the  world  ;  and  I  thought 
that  peradventure  his  intent  might  fall  unto  others  to 
fulfil  :  from  all  which  it  may  well  be  supposed,  that 
I  held  it  far  more  wise  that  they  should  call  me  unto 
a  sceptre,  than  a  low-born  pretender  whose  blood  was 
not  in  any  sort  so  noble  as  mine.  As  to  my  capacity 
and  skill  for  the  royal  office,  whatever  they  might  in 
truth  be  at  this  time,  or  whatever  they  may  have  been 
esteemed  since, — I  assuredly  did  believe  them,  with 
much  overweening  conceit,  to  be  far  above  those  of 


l.'Ki  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENET?. 

common  men,  and  all  fitting  to  make  me  a  most  wise 
and  excellent  Sovereign. 

So  thought  I  until  I  became  lost  and  perplexed  in 
spirit,  when  I  chanced  to  remember  that  which  Mas- 
ter St.  Leger  had  said  touching  the  Lady  Bride,  and 
the  Knight's  hasty  glancing  at  her  being  a  fitting 
match  for  me,  seeing  that  we  were  both  of  the  royal 
House  of  York.  Albeit  I  had  then  never  seen  her, 
yet  did  her  image  seem  to  be  suddenly  impictured  in 
my  mind  and  almost  present  unto  my  sight ;  and  anon 
my  visions  of  greatness  shewed  me  how  nobly  she  would 
hereafter  grace  a  throne  with  me.  But  then  I  thought 
of  her  being  already,  as  it  were,  betrothed  unto  Hea- 
ven, and  of  her  too-early  retreat  into  a  convent,  ere 
she  had  partaken  of  the  joys  of  life,  to  entomb  her 
yovmg  beauties  in  holy  solitude  ;  whereupon  my  rov- 
ing fancy  took  a  lower  flight,  and  I  deemed  it  would 
be  a  most  blessed  estate  for  me,  were  I  also  to  quit  the 
world  and  its'  distracting  cares,  and  in  some  monastery 
near  her  devote  myself  to  God. 

Such,  then,  I  say,  were  some  of  the  vain  dreams  of 
my  youth  when  I  went  to  sojourn  with  INIaster  St. 
Leger,  and  it  is  therefore  no  matter  of  wonder  that  I 
had  at  this  time  much  of  a  quick  and  haughty  spirit, 
ever  ready  to  take  place  for  my  lofty  birth,  and  not 
backward  to  assert  my  right  by  force ;  seeing  that  I 
was  now  of  good  strength  and  stature,  and  somewhat 
fitted  for  contention  by  the  instructions  I  had  received 
at  Leicester  Castle :  but  these   feelings  were  happily 


THK    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  137 

and  most  effectually  suppressed,  by  an  event  which 
suddenly  altered  the  whole  scene  and  tenor  of  my 
life,  whereof  I  will  now  faithfully  recount  the  his- 
tory. 

It  is  known  unto  all  men,  that  in  the  months  of 
June  and  July  in  the  wealthy  City  of  London,  there 
were  once*  wont  to  be  held  certain  joyful  vigils  and 
feasts,  whereon  many  fires  were  made  in  the  streets 
after  sunset,  unto  which  every  man  bestowed  either 
wood  or  labour  :  the  which  were  called  bon-fires,  both 
because  of  the  good  amity  they  effected  between 
neighbours,  and  the  contentions  which  they  brought 
unto  an  end ;  and  also  for  their  great  virtue  in  clearing 
the  air  of  any  infection  or  pestilence  which  might  be 
found  in  that  hot  season.  At  this  time,  too,  the  richer 
sort  did  set  tables  before  their  doors  by  the  said  fires, 
spread  out  with  choice  banquets,  whereof  they  did  in- 
vite the  neighbours  and  passengers  to  sit  down  and 
partake  ;  for  there  were  of  old  no  statelier  holidays  in 
London  than  the  Vigils  and  Feasts  of  St.  John  the 
Baptist  and  St.  Peter,  at  bright  and  merry  Midsum- 
mer. I  was  yet  remaining  with  JMaster  St.  Leger, 
when  the  last  of  these  festivals-  namely,   Friday,  the 


*  The  processions  and  festivals  of  the  Midsummer  Watch 
described  in  the  text,  were  first  prohibited  by  Henry  A' III. 
in  15;i9,  and  remained  in  disuse  until  1548,  when  Sir  John 
Gresham  revived  them  with  great  splendour;  after  which 
period  they  were  never  again  renewed. 


138      THE  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

29th  day  of  June,  came  round ;  and  having  a  desire 
to  view  the  jjageants  thereof,  for  that  they  had  been 
much  noted  both  at  Ely  and  Leicester  as  most  glorious 
shews, — I  told  it  unto  my  protector,  who  answered 
that  he  would  go  with  me  to  view  them,  if  so  I  listed, 
because  he  would  have  me  keep  unknown,  and  not  hold 
much  converse  with  any  but  himself. 

We  set  forth  with  all  due  caution  at  even-tide,  yet 
had  we  not  gone  a  great  space,  when  I  marked  one, 
who,  as  methought,  full  curiously  followed  and  watch- 
ed our  steps.  Having  noted  it  unto  my  conductor, 
we  crossed  once  and  again  from  side  to  side  of  the 
street  to  'scape  from  his  prying  regards,  and  deemed 
that  ^ve  had  certainly  baffled  him,  when,  as  we  drew 
nigh  unto  the  Funeral-cross  at  Charing,  up  comes  me 
the  same  fellow  riglit  over  against  us  once  more.  I 
liked  not  this,  for  that  I  could  scarcely  think  it  but 
chance  and  not  evil  design ;  and  mine  anger  was  rising 
so  fast,  that  I  would  with  a  very  good  will  have  gone 
up  vmto  the  varlet,  and  demanding  wherefore  he  dog- 
ged us,  have  broken  his  head  with  my  dagger.  How- 
beit.  Master  St.  Leger  would  in  no  wise  let  me  from 
him,  but  willed  me  leather  to  conceal  my  visage  and 
guard  my  pouch,  wherein  were  some  few  of  King 
Richard's  gold  pieces,  albeit  my  wealth  was  now  of 
small  sum ;  for  in  the  dusky  even-tide,  and  lonely 
passage  of  the  Strand,  this  Stranger  might  be  minded 
to  assail  our  purses :  since  the  City  pageants,  being  so 
great  a  cavalcade  and  shew,  brought  together  many  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANT AGENETS,      139 

all  degrees ;  and  specially  not  a  few  of  the  viler  sort, 
as  rogues,  cut-purses,  quarrellers,  and  drunkards. 
Yet,  indeed.  Master  St.  Leger  doubted,  if  vnito  me 
he  might  not  prove  worse  than  any  common  robber ; 
but  we  nevertheless  went  forward  without  shewing 
aught  of  fear  or  suspicion,  though  much  disordered 
by  his  continuing  to  follow  vis,  even  after  we  had  en- 
tered the  City. 

Howbeit,  when  we  had  passed  through  the  dan- 
gerous darkness  and  solitude  of  the  Strand,  I  could 
not  but  marvel  at  the  glorious  and  sudden  light  which 
burst  upon  us  as  we  issued  from  the  Northernmost 
side  of  Fowle's  Church  ;  though  we  had  afar  off  seen 
it's  ruddy  reflection  upon  the  night-skies.  It  was, 
perchance,  about  nine  of  the  clock  and  a  sweet  mid- 
summer even,  when  we  entered  the  street  of  the  West- 
Cheap,  and  beheld  such  a  blaze  of  light  as  seemed  to 
betoken  no  less  than  that  London  was  enwrapped  in 
a  flood  of  fire  which  almost  turned  the  night  into  day. 
Every  man's  door  shewed  like  some  rural  tabernacle, 
being  shadowed  with  green  birch,  long  fennel,  St. 
John's  wort,  orpin,  white  lilies,  and  such  like,  gar- 
nished upon  with  garlands  of  beautiful  flowers.  There 
were,  also,  many  lamps  of  glass,  with  oil  burning  in 
them  all  the  night,  some  being  hung  upon  branches 
of  iron  curiously  wrought,  which  held  hundreds  light- 
ed at  once  and  made  a  most  goodly  show  :  beside 
which,  there  were  multitudes  of  flaming  cressets  hung 
up  in   the  streets,  and  huge  lanthorns,  or  iron  grates 


140      THE  LAST  OF  THK  TLANTAGENETS. 

with  fire,  fixed  on  the  ends  of  long  staves  and  carried 
about  on  men's  shoulders,  or  held  by  them  standing 
at  the  several  lanes  and  passages.  As  I  looked  upon 
all  this  with  great  wonder,  the  Stranger,  who  had  so 
long  followed  us,  accosted  us  with,  "  Good  even  to  you, 
my  masters,  this  is  in  truth  a  rare  sight,  well  worth 
some  travel  to  behold ;  and  you,  like  me,  I  trow,  have 
been  at  some  pains  to  look  upon  it?" 

He  spake  this  with  a  voice  and  air  of  gentle  breed- 
ing, and  thereupon  I  thought  that  I  had  done  him 
much  wrong  in  suspecting  him  of  dishonesty  ;  which 
made  me  reply  unto  him  with  more  courtesy,  though 
still  with  caution,  that  it  was  truly  a  most  wondrous 
shew,  even  if  the  lighted  streets  were  all  of  it. 

"  An  it  were  indeed,  so,"  answered  he,  "  full  many 
would  rail  at  their  scanty  entertainment,  for  I  wot 
well  that  these  bright  lamps  and  green  boughs,  fair 
though  they  be,  are  the  least  parts  of  the  March  of 
THE  City  Watch  ;  which,  by  the  Lamb  of  St.  John  ! 
is  even  now  coming  forward :  so  look,  my  masters^  and 
I  shall  describe  to  you  the  whole  pageant  as  it  passeth 
by  us." 

As  he  spake  were  heard  the  trumpets  and  merry 
music  of  the  City  Waits,  with  the  heavy  tread  of  a  large 
body  marching  towardsus;  whereupon  word  was  given 
that  all  who  came  but  as  gazers  should  stand  by,  for 
that  the  great  procession  of  the  night  was  close  at  hand. 
Firstly,  there  came  a  party  of  watchmen  bearing  iron 
cages  of  fire  upon  staves,  each  designated  by  a  painted 


THE    LAST    OP    THR    PLAKTAGENETS.  141 

badge,  and  followed  by  a  man  with  a  skin  wallet,  hav- 
ing therein  a  light  and  pitched  ropes  to  serve  the  cres- 
set. Then  came  a  wondrous  pleasant  noise  of  Min- 
strels, and  the  City  Waits,  in  their  coats  of  tawny 
frieze,  playing  most  rarely  on  crowds,  rotes,  shawms, 
dulcimers,  sackbuts,  and  the  like;  the  which  were 
followed  by  morris-dancers,  clothed  in  antic  dresses, 
making  good  pastime,  sword-players  brandishing 
their  weapons,  and  trumpeters  on  horseback.  Next 
after  them  came  part  of  the  City  Watch,  ordered  and 
trained  by  divers  ancient  soldiers  of  skill  to  be  Cap- 
tains and  officers  over  them  ;  and  in  truth  they  were 
a  right  gallant  troop,  there  being  of  them  a  great 
number  and  diversity  ;  as  pikemen  in  bright  corselets 
or  burgonets,  billmen  in  Almaine-rivets  and  aprons 
of  mail,  gunners  with  harquebushes,  halberdiers,  and 
archers  in  coats  of  white  fustian,  signed  on  the  back 
and  breast  with  the  arms  of  the  City,  their  bows  being 
bent  in  their  hands,  and  a  sheaf  of  arrows  hung  at  their 
sides.  The  Constables  of  London  followed  these,  in 
bright  armour,  some  being  over-gilt,  and  cloaks  of 
scarlet  with  gold  chains ;  each  one  also  being  at- 
tended by  his  henchman,  his  minstrels,  and  his  cres- 
set-light. 

It  will  not  be  questioned  by  any,  that  all  this  stately 
array  brought  with  it  no  little  press  of  the  gazing  and 
shouting  multitude,  the  which  in  truth  came  with 
such  a  mighty  rush,  that  I  was  suddenly  separated 
from  Master  St.  Leger,  and  borne   forward   with  the 


142      THE  LAST  OF  THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

train  whetlier  I  would  or  no.  I  felt  much  disquieted 
at  this,  albeit  I  could  neither  withstand  the  force  of 
the  crowd,  nor  return  to  my  conductor ;  whereupon 
resigning  myself  to  be  carried  along  with  it,  I  beheld 
this  stately  March  pass  through  it's  whole  progress, 
from  the  upper  end  of  West-Cheap  down  to  the 
Stocks-market  and  Cornhill,  by  the  Leaden-hall  to 
Aldgate,  and  through  Fen-Church-Street  and  Graci- 
ous-Street, back  unto  the  Conduit  in  Cheap.  Through 
all  this  journey,  however,  I  found  him  who  had 
watched  us  from  Charing  still  at  my  side,  as  if  pro- 
tecting me  from  the  crowd,  for  he  was  a  stout  fellow 
enough  ;  at  which  I  marvelled  and  somewhat  fore- 
thought myself  for  having  taken  him  for  a  knave. 
Howbeit,  I  was  fretful  and  much  wearied  when  Ave 
returned  to  the  West-Cheap,  where  the  procession 
passed  by  us  for  the  last  time ;  and  where  the  care- 
less speech  of  the  rude  crowd  seemed  greatly  to  dis- 
quiet my  spirit  and  kindle  mine  anger,  especially 
against  one  clownish  fellow  who  had  thrust  himself 
somewhat  before  me^  as  we  stood  in  front  of  the  press, 
and  talked  without  ceasing  in  a  loud  and  brawling 
voice. 

"  Now,  my  masters,"  said  he,  boisterously  pushing 
about  him  as  the  City  Constables  disappeared,  "  mark 
ye  all  well,  I  pray  you ;  for  now  cometh  the  best 
o'the  shew  :  these  varlets  in  the  say  jackets  of  black 
and  white,  be  the  footmen,  officers,  and  torch-bear- 
ers of  the  Lord    Mayor,  the    worshipful   Sir  Heni-y 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  ]43 

Colet,  Knight.     There,   ye  may  see,  are  his  morris- 
dancers  ; — there  his  histy  giant,  Corinaeus,  the  ancient 
Trojan,  carried   by  six  stout  men  ; — and  there  be  his 
three  most  goodly  pageants  of  a  Ship,  and  an  Olifaunte, 
bearing  a  tower  on  his  back  and  merry  bells  therein, 
and  there,  too,  is  a  great  Red  Dragon  to  betoken  the 
King's  Grace,  for  he  is  a  most  loyal  gentleman.     In 
midst  of  all  you  may   note  the  Sword-bearer,  riding 
in  a  wondrous  fair  armour;  and  next  after  him,  well 
mounted  on  that   stout   roan,  the  ]\Iayor  himself  in 
passing  rich  clothing. — There  you  see,  too,  his  twain 
henchmen    following  on  great  stirring    horses ;    and 
then  come  the  Sheriffs'  Watches,  of  good  shew,  but 
not  like  my  Lord's  : — howbeit  you  can  mark  that  each 
hath  his  giant  clothed  like  a  Saxon  or  a  Norman,  with 
his  liverymen,  lights,  and  minstrels. — Look  you  now, 
fellows,  there,  that  is  Master  John  Percivall,  one  of 
the  Sheriffs  ;  and  do  but  note  what  a  fair  pageant  he 
hath  in  that  Castle,  so    tliickly    set  with  the  King's 
arms  and  devices.     And  there  again,  is  Master  Hugh 
Clopton,   the  other   Sheriff,  with  a  like  goodly    and 
loyal  pageant  of  a  Crown  in  a  Hawthorn-bush  carried 
by  an  Angel,  to  denote  how  the  princely  Henry  was 
crowned  on  Bosworth-field,  what  time  the  foul  tyrant 
and  crooked  usurper,  Richard  Plantagenct,  was  slain." 
At  these  most  evil  slanders  cast  upon  my  father  by 
one  of  such  base  degree,  I  could  suppress  mine  anger 
no  longer,  but  smote  him  a  fierce  blow  on  the  mouth 
which  had  uttered  them,  and  then  hastily  snatching 


144     THK  LAST  OF  THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

from  him  the  staff  wherewith  he  was  pointing,  I 
forthwith  struck  him  to  the  ground ;  passionately 
exclaiming,  as  I  s})urned  him  with  my  feet, — "  Thou 
liest !  dog  that  thou  art,  thus  to  rail  upon  so  worthy 
a  Prince;  who  lived  like  a  noble  Sovereign,  and  died 
like  a  valiant  lion: — thou  liest  in  thy  throat  to  call 

him  foul  tyrant  and  crooked  usurper  ! " 

I  had  already   drawn  my   dagger^   and  perchance 
should  have  slain  the  villain  in  the  first  heat  of  my 
wrath,  had  not  the  Stranger  who  stood  by  my  side 
forcibly  grasped  my   arm,  and  dragged  me  from  the 
spot,  backward  into  the  crowd,  saying,  as  he  looked  at 
the  man  bleeding  upon  the  ground,  "  Truly  I  think  he 
doth  indeed  lie,  and  is  like  to  do  so  somewhat  longer, 
I  wot ;"  then  adding  unto  me  in  a  lower  voice,  "  come, 
my  valiant  young  master,  you   have   shewn  enow  of 
your  prowess  and  high  birth  for  to-night,  and  if  you 
would  keep  your  gentle  blood  from  being  spilled  by 
these  rude  churls,  follow   me  quickly    through   the 
crowd."     And  of  a  verity  his  counsel  was  right  wise, 
since  I   saw    the  multitude  hastily  gathering  round 
the  fallen  man,  and  looking  after  me  with  fierce  glan- 
ces and  loud  cries  of  "  Stop  the  rebel !" — "  Seize  the 
traitor  !" — "  God  save  King  Henry,  and  no  murderous 
Plantagenets !"    whereupon    I    rushed   through    the 
press  after   my  companion,  and  hastily  passing  down 
Sopar's-lane  by  the  Church  of  St.  INIary-le-bow,  we 
turned  into  Fish-street,  where  most  of  the  gay  cres- 
sets were  put  out  and  the  pageant  at  an  end. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  145 

Undei'  cover  of  the  darkness  we  silently  hastened 
onward  towards  Westminster,  though  keeping  as 
much  as  might  be  in  the  obscurest  ways  and  passages, 
the  which  seemed  wondrously  familiar  unto  my  con- 
ductor ;  until  at  length  deeming  ourselves  safe  from 
farther  pursuit,  we  slackened  our  speed,  and  began 
to  breathe  and  speak  unto  each  other.  "  A  plague 
upon  that  slanderous  knave!"  exclaimed  I,  though 
my  wrath  against  him  had  now  somewhat  abated, 
"  I  trust  in  Our  Lady  that  I  have  not  slain  him  ! 
yet  he  angered  me  sorely, — for  that  were  a  passing 
shrewd  finish  to  the  night's  merriment :  which,  to 
speak  the  truth,  was  the  bravest  sight  mine  eyes  ever 
looked  upon,  albeit  they  are  neither  very  old  nor  have 
seen  much  as  yet." 

"  Fear  not  for  him,"  answered  the  Stranger,  ''  me- 
thinks  you  have  done  a  good  deed ;  inasmuch  as  by 
breaking  his  sconce,  you  have  sent  him  home  sober, 
which  shall  be  the  better  for  his  wound.  As  for  the 
pageant,  'twas  as  you  say,  a  brave  sight  indeed  ;  and 
truly,  at  this  time  we  want  somewhat  joyous,  seeing 
that  we  have  little  to  cheer  us  of  late  under  this  pre- 
sent King  Henry,  for  even  the  Queen's  coronation, 
which  all  men  do  covet  to  behold,  hath  not  yet  been 
performed  ;  though  he  hath  been  so  long  married 
and  hath  a  son  born.  I  trow  that  matters  stood  not 
thus  in  the  days  of  King  Edward." 

"Right,   good  fellow,  right,"  responded  T,   "nor 
)'et  had  they  been  so  in  the  time  of  his  noble  brother, 

L 


146  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

King  Richard,  had  God  given  him  a  longer  day  of 
rule  and  sovereignty." 

"  In  sooth,"  answered  my  companion  thereunto, 
"  in  sooth,  IMaster  Plantagenet,  since  I  must  verily 
think  that  such  a  brave  spirit  comes  of  that  line,  there 
you  strike  the  wedge  on  the  very  head ;  for  the  stout 
Richard  was  truly  a  man  of  whom  the  realm  might 
well  be  proud,  though,  as  you  note,  it  had  brief  en- 
joyment of  him.  But  men  say,"  continued  he,  in  a 
more  cautious  voice,  "  that  he  hath  left  a  son,  whom 
the  good  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford  will  bring  forth 
at  a  fitting  season  :  what  say  you  to  this?" 

I  had  already  thought  whilst  the  Stranger  was 
speaking,  that  all  the  merry  music  of  that  night  was 
not  so  pleasant  to  mine  ears  as  these  words  of  praise 
which  he  bestowed  upon  my  father,  seeing  that  al- 
most all  men  spake  of  him  with  false  and  bitter  re- 
proach ;  and  therefore  my  conscience  smote  me  more 
than  before,  that  I  had  ever  doubted  the  honesty  of 
one  who  had  thus  proved  the  wondrous  excellence 
of  both  his  heart  and  judgement.  And  now  that  he 
touched  upon  the  very  master-string  of  my  bosom,  I 
was  almost  about  to  discover  myself  unto  him,  and 
recount  the  story  of  my  past  life,  when  the  counsels 
of  Sir  Gilbert  De  iMountford,  Blaster  St.  Leger,  and, 
above  all,  those  of  my  deceased  sire,  came  into  my 
mind,  and  restrained  my  tongue  from  farther  disclo- 
sure. We  nevertheless  continued  to  discourse  freely 
on  the  great  worth  of  King  Richard,  he  wondrously 


THK    LAST    OF    THK    FLANTAGENETS.  147 

consenting  to  all  that  T  spake  in  his  praise  ;  and 
affirming  that  the  wily  adventurer  who  now  wore 
his  crown,  was,  even  in  the  day  of  his  greatest 
glory,  miworthy  of  buckling  on  that  Sovereign's 
armour. 

So  continued  we  unto  Westminster,  when,  in  the 
openness  of  my  heart  and  confidence  in  his  honour, 
I  told  the  Stranger  that  I  dwelled  with  a  scribe 
there,  who,  like  himself,  was  a  lover  of  the  memory 
of  Richard,  and  a  true  friend  to  the  House  of  York. 
I  told  him  too,  that  he  might  well  believe  that  this 
was  not  to  be  said  unto  all  men,  but  that  I  gladly 
trusted  him,  because  he  seemed  unto  me  a  good  and 
loyal  Englishman ;  although  I  had  held  him  in  no 
little  suspicion  from  his  having  watched  us  so  closely 
as  we  walked  unto  the  City. 

"  Why,  my  master,"  said  he  in  reply,  "  when  two 
men  go  to  the  same  place,  they  are  like  to  travel  the 
same  road.  I  marked  you,  and  saw  that  in  your  faces 
that  I  desired  to  see  more  of;  so  I  kept  me  closely  to 
your  side,  and  as  you  have  lost  your  other  companion, 
it  hath  been  to  good  purpose,  and  I  well  trust  that  we 
shall  be  better  acquainted  anon ;  so  that  I  am  right 
glad  you  have  been  deceived  in  me." 

When  we  came  to  part,  which  was  at  Charing, 
where  I  first  beheld  him,  the  distant  Abbey-bell  was 
tolling  the  hour  of  one.  Long  before  the  last  clouds 
of  the  night-skies  were  touched  by  the  first  beams  of 
the  morning,   I   arrived  at   Master  St.  Leger's  with 


148  THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLiANTAGENETS. 

wearied  feet  and  disquieted  spirit,  and  heard  with 
much  alarm  that  he  had  not  yet  returned ;  where- 
upon I  seated  myself  to  await  his  coming,  and  fell 
into  a  feverish  and  uneasy  slumber,  all  unprepared 
for  what  I  was  next  to  encounter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    FLIGHT^    A    DISAPP0INT3IENT,    AND    THE    DEATH    OF 
A    DEAR    FRIEND. 

It  standeth  so  ;  a  deed  is  do 

Whereof  great  harm  shall  grow  : 
My  destiny  is  for  to  die 

A  shameful  death  I  trow. 
Or  else  to  flee :  the  one  must  be, — 

None  other  way  I  know. 
•         «         «         •         * 
Wherefore,  adieu,  mine  own  heart  true  ! 

None  other  rede  I  can ; 
For  I  must  to  the  green-wood  go. 

Alone, — A  banish'd  man  ! 

The  Nut-brown  Maid. 

All  heads  must  come 

To  the  cold  tomb. 
Only  the  actions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet,  and  blossom  in  the  dust. 

Shirley, 

It  could  not  have  been  more  than  a  short  half  hour 
that  I  had  been  thus  sleeping,  when  I  was  hastily 
awakened  by  Master  St.  Leger  standing  by  my  side, 
who,  with  looks  of  great  sorrow  and  disquiet,  told  me 
that  I  was  in  much  danger,  and  must  speedily  haste 
me  away  from  Westminster ;    but  desired  to  know 


150  THE    r^AST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS. 

briefly  from  mine  own  lips,  that  which  had  befallen 
me  since  we  had  been  parted  on  the  past  night.  This 
I  soon  recounted  unto  him,  and  albeit  he  much 
blamed  my  rashness  and  passion,  he  yet  rejoiced 
that  I  had  not  trusted  all  my  secret  unto  a  seeming 
friend,  who  might,  notwithstanding  all  which  he  had 
uttered,  be  a  very  wily  knave,  and  therefore  he  Avould 
in  no  wise  have  me  within  his  reach  or  power.  And 
unto  this  he  added,  that  it  was  to  be  feared  a  hot 
search  would  be  presently  made  after  me,  for  that  he 
had  heard  my  story  recomited  in  divers  ways  in  the 
streets,  with  some  speech  of  a  pursuivant,  and  a  war- 
rant to  carry  me  before  the  Council  for  high-treason ; 
whereby  I  should  run  great  risk  of  discovery,  and 
full  surely  if  I  were  taken  lose  my  head.  Therefore, 
he  said,  I  must  clothe  me  in  some  disguise  all  unlike 
my  present  habit,  and  as  I  could  right  well  act  the 
Friar,  he  had  brought  me  such  a  dress,  for  that  it 
would  be  the  most  regarded  and  least  questioned ; 
wherein  he  counselled  me  to  hasten  unto  those  friends 
of  my  House  who  were  presently  in  arms  in  Not- 
tinghamshire, on  their  march  towards  Yorkshire, 
whither  they  intended  to  draw  round  them  all  who 
affected  their  cause.  He  also  told  me,  that  divers 
trusty  gentlemen  had  shewn  him  that  they  had  al- 
ready discomfited  the  King's  troops  ;*  and  that  their 


*  It  is  stated  by  the  contemporary  historian  and  Poet-Lau- 


THE    LAST   OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  151 

host  under  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  and  others  grew  no 
mightily,  that  perchance  in  another  fortnight  they 
might  march  triumphantly  over  the  very  spot  where- 
on we  did  then  stand.  Master  St.  Leger  finished  all 
by  bidding  me  be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  he  had  di- 
vers friends  of  much  power  in  that  army,  unto  whom 
he  would  give  me  certain  letters  which  should  pro- 
cure me  both  a  free  welcome  and  much  favour. 

And  now  again  did  the  delusive  visions  of  wild  am- 
bition and  gaudy  hope  rise  iip  in  my  heart,  albeit  at 
that  moment  I  was  little  better  than  a  proscribed  fugi- 
tive. Most  gladly  did  I  consent  to  all  that  he  had  coun- 
selled, and  in  my  bosom  sprang  up  the  vain,  though 
joyous  thought,  that  at  no  very  distant  day,  I,  who 
was  then  in  semblance  a  very  groundling,  might  re- 
turn home  honoured  of  all  as  a  victor,  and,  perchance, 
even  as  a  King  !  I  thought,  too,  that  if  such  should 
indeed  be  my  fortune,  how  sweet  it  would  prove  to 
requite  me  on  mine  enemies,  and  specially  on  him 
who  sat  on  the  throne  of  King  Richard ;  and  how 
blissful  would  be  the  power  which  would  then  also 
be  mine,  of  righting  his  deserted  consort,  liberating 
the  imprisoned  Queen-Dowager,  and  beholding  and 


reate  of  Henry  VII.,  Bernard  Andreas,  of  Tliolouse,  in  his  two 
volumes  of  his  most  eminent  actions  which  yet  remain  in 
manuscript  in  the  Cottonian  I.ihrar_y,  that  during  the  bat- 
tle of  Stoke,  it  was  actually  supposed  that  the  King's  party 
was  defeated. 


152      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

betrothing  unto  me  the  lovely  Lady  Bride,  the  which 
thought  seemed  dearer  than  all. 

liovvbeit,  these  profitless  musings  were  eftsoons 
broken  up  by  Master  St.  Leger,  who  urged  me  to 
hasten  to  change  my  habit,  that  I  might  quit  the 
house  before  day-break ;  and  in  truth  I  suffered  no 
time  to  escape  me,  for  speed  is  life  in  such  straits  as 
mine.  I  therefore  quickly  swallowed  some  food, 
wliilst  my  constant  friend  wrote  the  missives  I  was 
to  bear  with  me ;  and  long  ere  the  sun  rose  upon 
London,  I  had  set  forward  in  the  habit  of  a  Benedic- 
tine Friar,  bearing  with  me  divers  letters  to  the  Earl 
of  Lincoln  and  his  confederates,  who  were  embarked 
in  the  very  same  plots  as  those  which  Sir  Gilbert  De 
Mountford  had  undertaken  to  support. 

As  the  whole  of  my  purposed  journey  was  alto- 
gether unknown  to  me.  Master  St.  Leger  himself 
guided  me  forth  by  the  Church  of  St.  Martin,  stand- 
ing in  a  narrow  country  lane,  with  fields  around  it ; 
then  through  the  meadows  called  the  Long-acre,  and 
so  by  certain  fields  unto  Old-bourne  Bridge,  whence 
we  entered  on  the  broad  space  of  Smith-field,  where 
the  Northern  Carriers  are  wont  to  lodge:  with  one 
of  whom  we  breakfasted  at  dawn  of  day,  he  drinking 
stoutly  to  our  good  journey  out  of  a  huge  flagon  of 
double-ale.  Master  St.  Leger  then  bade  me  farewell 
Avith  much  caution,  though  with  great  kindness  of 
speech  ;  and  as  he  departed  I  looked  wistfully  after 
him  with  somewhat  like  tears  in  mine  eyes,  until  the 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  153 

Carrier  told  me  that  our  horses  were  ready,  when  we 
forthwith  mounted  and  rode  away. 

It  seemed  unto  me  great  good  fortune,  that  at  first 
my  rude  conductors  were  resolved  to  hasten  their 
journey,  so  that  before  night  closed  upon  us  we  were 
far  advanced  upon  our  progress ;  but  me  lists  not 
now  to  set  down  how  we  halted  at  eve  and  set  for- 
ward at  sun-rise,  and  therefore  let  it  be  enow  to  say, 
that  we  travelled  safely, — albeit  I  was  oft-times  in 
great  doubt  and  fear, — until  we  reached  Elveston,  in 
the  good  County  of  Nottingham  some  four  miles  short 
of  Newark,  having  spent  nearly  a  week  upon  the  road, 
and  journied  120  miles.  I  well  deemed,  however, 
that  such  delay  betokened  me  no  good ;  in  the  which 
I  was  not  wrong,  as  shall  forthwith  be  set  down. 

In  this  village  of  Elveston,  JMaster  St.  Leger  had 
told  me,  that  I  should  find  a  fair  hostel,  whereof  the 
keeper  was  a  true  friend  unto  the  House  of  York,  and 
had  most  clearly  proved  it  by  changing  his  sign,  which 
of  old  was  the  Red  Rose,  into  the  White  ;  that  all  men 
might  know  what  he  was  who  dwelled  therein.  Of  him 
was  I  admonished  to  ask  for  farther  counsel  concern- 
ing the  Earl  of  Lincoln's  host  ;  and  having  contented 
my  Carriers,  to  this  hostel  I  went  for  lodging,  and 
found  him  whom  1  desired  to  behold.  Having  called 
him  apart  from  his  guests,  I  told  him,  in  brief,  that  I 
was  well  known  unto  divers  of  his  friends  in  London, 
and  had  tidings  from  them  unto  the  Lord  Lovel  and 
certain  others  of  great  place  in  that  power;  the  which 


l'}4  THE    LAST    OF    THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

I   prayed  him   to  shew    me    the   way   of  delivering. 

The  Host,  whose  name  was  Gideon  Staples,  then 
looked  at  me  with  a  shrewd  eye  and  gibing  visage, 
and  turning  from  me  with  clownish  jesting,  said  unto 
a  certain  merry  Clerk  who  sat  near  him  quaffing  large 
draughts  of  ale,  "  Lo  ye,  now  ;  goodman  Inkpen,  how 
honest  men  be  beset  by  knaves  !  This  rogue-priest 
hath  heard,  I  warrant  you,  how  the  rebels  pulled 
down  my  true  sign  to  set  up  their  own  foul  leasings, 
and  so  thinketh  that  I  am  his  fellow  in  treason." 

As  he  spake,  I  noted  that  the  crowd  in  the  hostel 
seemed  much  disturbed  and  boisterous,  whereupon  I 
did  suspect,  having  been  of  late  greatly  accustomed 
to  doubt  of  my  safety, — that  some  evil  had  befallen 
the  Yorkist  friends  -whom  I  was  then  seeking,  not- 
withstanding the  report  of  their  triumph  in  London. 
This  the  Clerk  I  have  already  spoken  of,  gave  me  more 
perfectly  to  understand,  by  saying: — "Thou  art  all 
too  late  for  the  fair,  Sir  Priest,  and  York  is  too  far  for 
thee  to  travel  to  this  journey ;  and  so  as  honest 
gaffer  Staples,  our  host,  hath  no  longer  fear  of  being 
misused  by  riotous  traitors,  he  hath  even  to-day 
proved  his  true  heart  by  turning  out, — sick  and  sad 
as  they  might  be, — the  wounded  rogues  whom  the 
rebel  Earl  of  Lincoln  quartered  upon  him ;  and  has 
gotten  back  his  old  sign  that  was  stolen,  the  which 
shall  be  mounted  again  ere  the  sun  gets  up  to- 
morrow." 

"  Aye,"  cried  another  voice,  "  the  play  of  White  and 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  155 

Red  was  played  out  I  trow  at  Stoke  a  month  ago; 
Lincoln  and  Geradine  with  a  host  of  their  knaves 
were  left  dead  upon  the  ground,  Lovel  was  drowned 
in  Trent,  and  as  for  the  Almains,  they  so  trusted  in, 
why  as  the  song  saith," — continued  he,  chaunting  part 
of  a  ribald  ballad  made  at  this  time, 

"  '  Martin  Schwart  and  his  men, 
Sodledum  Syllorum  hen ; 
For  gold  and  for  fee,  they  came  o'er  the  sea. 
But  they'll  never  march  home  agen  ! 
Sing  O  aieh  !  Ah  well  a  day  ! 
For  Martin  Schwart  and  his  men  ! '  " 

This  gibing  did  not  fail  to  produce  a  mighty  out- 
cry in  the  hostel,  all  the  guests  whereof  seemed  most 
fierce  against  one  whom  they  deemed  a  favourer  of 
the  rebels.  IMuch  angry  and  evil  speech  was  be- 
stowed on  me,  and  divers  menaces  withal ;  and  some 
did  not  even  doubt  to  say,  that  when  the  true  sign 
was  set  up  again  it  would  be  a  good  deed  to  make  a 
traitor-priest's  head  it's  companion.  When  this  dis- 
order had  continued  a  brief  space,  the  Clerk  who  stood 
near  me,  suddenly,  but  secretly,  snatched  my  pouch 
from  my  girdle,  wherein  were  some  of  my  letters,  and 
seeming  to  examine  them,  cried  out,  "  Stint  your 
clamour,  my  Masters  all!  for  this  is  no  traitor- varlet, 
as  you  deem  him,  but  a  good  man  and  true,  come  to 
spy  me  into  the  foul  plots  of  the  rebels,  and  know 
what  they  would  do  farther  against  the  King;  for  the 


150  THE     LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

which  he  hath  even  now  progressed  hither  from 
London." 

But  albeit  there  was  certes  some  good-will  intended 
unto  me  by  this  speech,  it  did  much  perplex  me,  for 
that  I  abhorred  the  very  name  of  an  espial;  though, 
as  matters  then  stood,  I  deemed  it  not  wise  wholly  to 
disavow  that  which  he  uttered.  Yet  affirm  it,  I 
might  not ;  both  because  it  would  have  been  to  have 
sinned  against  the  truth,  and  also  for  that  I  well  knew 
the  letters  which  he  had  seized  upon  would  bear 
witness  against  me  :  whereupon  I  held  my  peace, 
since  my  speech  might  mar,  though  it  could  not  mend 
my  fortune. 

The  men-y  Clerk,  therefore,  went  on  to  say  much 
more  to  the  like  purpose,  the  which,  as  he  spake  with 
boldness  and  I  denied  not  his  words,  was  presently 
well  believed  by  all,  and  suddenly  wrought  me  great 
good- will  in  the  hostel ;  for  Master  Staples  became 
wondrous  reverent  unto  me,  deeming  me,  perchance, 
to  be  one  in  the  King's  service ;  and  nought  would 
satisfy  him  but  that  I  should  be  of  his  own  company, 
and  partake  of  his  food  and  ale  at  free-cost.  Never- 
theless, I  doubted  much  as  to  what  all  this  courtesy 
might  tend,  though  I  seemed  to  accept  it  in  good  part; 
and  whiles  I  sat  in  the  hostel  I  heard  many  circum- 
stances of  the  late  battle  at  Stoke,  and  defeat  of  the 
Yorkists  there,  the  which  were  for  a  long  space  un- 
known in  London.  I  inwardly  sorrowed  over  these 
sad  tidings,  albeit  I   could  hardly  refuse  to  consider 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  157 

the  Earl  of  Lincoln's  overthrow  as  a  signal  judg- 
ment of  Heaven  upon  those,  who  stained  a  fair  and 
just  cause,  by  supporting  the  claims  of  the  low-born 
impostor,  Lambert  Simnell,  whilst  I,  the  true  son 
of  King  Richard,  was  utterly  disregarded. 

Still,  as  I  have  said,  my  mind  was  much  perplexed, 
as  to  what  those  about  me  did  really  intend;  nor  did  I 
marvel  less,  when  he  who  had  seized  upon  my  letters, 
and  so  warmly  spake  in  my  defence,  drew  me  some- 
what aside,  and  cautiously  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Be 
discreet  in  speech  and  patient  in  conduct,  or  thy  neck 
may  even  yet  be  found  in  a  St.  Johnstone's  tippet ! 
keep  your  eye  warily  upon  me,  and  when  I  quit  the 
hostel,  do  you  do  the  like  presently  after,  with  as  little 
noise  as  you  may."  His  visage  was  then  again 
changed  unto  it's  wonted  look  of  merry  recklessness, 
as  though  he  would  have  it  unmarked  that  he  had 
spoken  with  me ;  and  whilst  loud  prating  and  rude 
merriment  continued  to  resound  through  the  hostel, 
I  waited  with  much  anxiety  for  the  hour,  when  I 
should  be  farther  informed  of  that  which  I  should 
next  encounter. 

It  was  during  this  time  of  doubt,  that  the  rude  hinds 
began  to  discourse  of  the  fate  of  certain  leaders  in  the 
late  battle ;  and  beside  many  whom  they  noted  as 
having  been  left  dead  upon  the  field,  and  others  who 
had  since  bled  upon  the  scaffold  at  Newark,  they 
spake  of  some  who  had  never  been  seen  or  heard  of 
after  the  conflict ;  and   in  especial    of  Sir   Thomas 


158  THE    IvAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENKTS. 

Broughton,  and  the  Lord  Lovel.  Of  the  last,  divers 
affirmed  that  he  was  drowned  in  swimming  his  horse 
over  the  Trent  River  ;  and  that  his  sprite  had  been 
seen  in  the  night-season  by  moonlight,  on  the  other 
side  thereof,  habited  as  when  he  died,  but  with  all  his 
wounds  bleeding,  and  looking  wondrously  pale  and 
wan.  Howbeit,  others  did  contrariwise  declare,  that 
he  might  well  be  seen  in  that  place,  for  that  many 
deemed  him  to  be  yet  hidden  in  some  of  the  caverns 
on  the  farther  bank  of  Trent ;  albeit,  after  the  closest 
search  and  watching,  none  might  discover  where  he 
was  concealed,  or  how  he  was  sustained. 

Upon  this  I  marked  that  an  old  Minstrel,  clothed  in 
a  purple  coat-hardy  with  a  silver  clasp,  and  altogether 
of  a  better  sort  than  those  lewd  crowders  which  be  now 
most  commonly  found  in  hostels,  who  was  then 
travelling  unto  the  King's  Court  at  Westminster, — 
rose  up  and  said,  "  My  masters,  ye  ought  not  to 
marvel  that  a  man  may  live  long  undiscovered  when 
hidden  in  a  wild  place,  for  divers  good  authors  do  tell 
of  the  like  ;  and  I  remember  me  of  a  noted  history 
thereof,  the  which  I  learned  in  Bretagne,  in  France, 
when  I  was  about  the  age  of  the  child  who  beareth 
my  harp.  It  was  made  by  that  most  choice  Poet, 
Marie,  from  some  more  ancient  song ;  and,  if  ye  list, 
I  shall  sing  it  to  ye  forthwith  for  small  guerdon,  al- 
though it  is  a  passing  rare  romaunt." 

As  the  common  sort  do  ever  delight  in  hearing  the 
wondrous  tales  of  Minstrels  and  Harpers,  albeit,  for 


THE    LAST   OF    THE    PLANT AGENETS.  159 

the  most  part  they  are  but  glosing  lies,  the  guests  in 
the  hostel  were  full  clamorous  for  the  old  man  to  re- 
count this  history ;  at  which  I  was  not  a  little  glad, 
for  that  I  well  trusted  to  escape  whilst  they  listened, 
the  which  I  did,  as  shall  hereafter  be  shewn.  But, 
now  as  the  story  of  my  life  is  so  sad,  I  have  thought 
it  meet  here  to  give  it  somewhat  of  disport  by  co- 
pying into  it  the  aged  Minstrel's  rude  old  tale  and 
rhymes,  as  I  have  since  found  them  written  in  an  an- 
cient book  in  the  Abbey  of  Our  Lady  of  Walsingham. 


THE     LAY     OF     ANT7EUS. 


A    ROMAUNT    Or    ARCADIE. 


'Tis  the  glad  hour  of  lusty  June, 
And  the  blithe  laverock's  merry  tune 

Is  heard  from  every  tree  ; 
The  summer  sun  is  hot  and  sheen 
O'er  flowery  field  and  forest  green, 

And  on  the  purple  sea- 
His  rays  upon  the  snow-mount's  height, 
Like  gold  yspread  on  silver  white, 

Of  dazzling  lustre  be : 
But  though  far  o'er  the  world  he  stands. 
And  shines  where  broadest  earth  expands, 
I  ween  he  lights  no  fairer  lands 

Than  those  of  Arcadie. 


160  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS- 

IT. 

In  that  blest  clime,  as  Poets  tell. 
The  infant-Jove  of  old  did  dwell ; 

And  sure  were  never  known 
Such  lofty  mounts  and  jrrassy  plains. 
Such  milk-white  Hocks  and  gentle  swains, 

Within  this  earthly  zone. 
There,  too,  were  found  the  palace  proud, 
The  village  hinds,  the  city's  crowd, 
Ilich  towns,  and  lofty  towers ; 
And  there  were  many  a  Barony, 
Of  stately  name  and  high  degree. 

Of  wealth  and  warlike  powers. 
O'er  one  of  these,  long  pass'd  away. 
There  ruled  a  County  brave  and  gay, 
Of  old  Antteus'  line  the  lord, — 
Which  still  Evanthe's  tomes  record, — 
Whose  worth  so  well  that  province  knew 
That  warmest  praise  seem'd  but  his  due ; 
A  valiant  champion,  and  a  host 
Liberal  of  favour  and  of  cost ; 
And  his  king's  love,  his  friends'  delight. 
Were  given  those  virtues  to  requite. 

III. 

But  round  his  ancient  House  a  spell 
Was  'twined,  as  Pliny's  pages  tell. 

That  ever  of  his  line. 
The  heir  should  quit  his  castle-home. 
And  for  a  certain  space  should  roam. 

But  where might  none  divine. 

And  it  was  said,  whoe'er  should  slight 
That  ancient  wont  and  mystic  rite 

Beyond  his  twentieth  vear; 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  101 

Childless  and  timeless  he  should  fall, 
Beneath  the  ruins  of  his  hall, 

Which  none  again  should  rear. 
But  whiles  Antseus'  heir  obey'd 
This  'hest,  and  well  his  task  assay 'd, 
His  noble  House  should  '  stablish'd  be 
In  the  fair  land  of  Arcadie, 
And  his  proud  name  adorn  it's  page 
Of  story  to  remotest  age. 
And,  now,  the  last  protracted  day 
Was  hastening  from  the  East  away, 
And  still  the  wonted  course  I  wot 
Was,  that  unto  a  lonely  spot, 
An  ancient  Knight  the  heir  should  lead, 
FuU-arm'd,  and  mounted  on  his  steed, 
What  time  the  sun's  arising  light 
First  pierced  the  darkness  of  the  night. 


IV. 

In  Arcadie  'tis  June,  'tis  June, 

And  the  blithe  birds  with  merry  tune 

Carol  from  every  tree ; 
All  in  that  golden  world  are  glad, 
Save  good  Antieiis,  who  is  sad 

As  e'er  such  lord  may  be : 
For,  now,  unto  the  forest  bright 
Have  ridden  away  the  Prince  and  Knight, 

And  each  looked  heavilie. 
And  as  they  reach'd  a  wild  wood  brake. 
Beyond  a  dark  and  rushy  lake. 
The  Knight  unto  his  lord  thus  spake, 

"  That  desert  waits  for  thee  ! — 

M 


162  THE    LAST    OF    THE    I'LANTAGENETS. 

"  But  ere  thou  o'er  these  waters  speed, 
Here  must  thou  leave  thy  gallant  steed, 

Till  thou  shalt  him  reclaim ; 
On  this  stone  cross  his  rein  be  slung. 
Thy  bugle-horn  and  shield  be  luuig, 

To  tell  thy  rank  and  name ; 
To  call  thee  when  thine  hour  hath  past 
Back  to  thine  home  with  merry  blast, 

In  bliss  for  life  to  dwell ; 
But,  Oh  !  before  that  fair  rewai-d 
Thou  wilt  have  conflict  fierce  and  hard. 

Young  County, — quit  thee  well  1 

V. 

"  Thus  stands  thy  fate : — In  olden  hours, 
Mankind  were  oft  with  wondrous  powers 

Endow'd  their  forms  to  change ; 
To  roam  the  earth  in  savage  pride, 
To  spread  destruction  far  and  wide. 

And  Wehr-Avolves  wild  to  range  ! 
To  feast  on  blood,  and  feed  on  men. 
To  make  the  forest  broad  tlieir  den ; 

And  many  a  minstrel-lay 
Tells  how  the  woods  of  Limousin 
With  Garwars  midnight-bowlings  rang. 

Or  of  Bisclaveret* 


*  The  romance,  or  Lai  du  Bisclaveret^  is  one  of  those  pre- 
served by  Marie  of  France,  an  Anglo-Norman  poetess  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  who  collected  and  copied  such  minstrel- 
stories  of  her  own  times  as  she  knew  to  be  true,  and  to  have 
been  formed  into  lays  by  the  people  of  Armorica,  or  Bretagne. 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  163 

One  of  thy  race, — whose  wizard  skill 
Bow'd  winds  and  spirits  to  his  will 
In  yonder  wilderness,  when  high 
The  fiends  held  wild  festivity, — 
Became  a  Wehr-wolf,  of  such  fame 
That  Ai'cadie  yet  fears  his  name  ! 
But,  when  the  hand  of  age  had  shed 
It's  hoary  frosts  upon  his  head. 
As  SAviftly  fled  his  crime-stain'd  years, 
The  thoughts  of  death  awaked  his  fears, 
And  of  that  place  of  endless  pain 
Which  forms  the  wizard's  surest  gain. 


Bisclaveret  and  Garival,  or  Garwalf^  ai"e  the  Breton  and  Norman 
names  for  those  persons  who  were  periodically  changed  into 
wolves ;  when  they  became  the  most  ferocious  and  destructive 
of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  forests.  Marie's  tale  is  of  one 
who  suffered  by  his  wife's  treacher}^,  after  having  been  pre- 
vailed upon  to  entrust  her  with  the  secret  of  the  place  where 
he  deposited  his  clothes  during  his  transformation,  although 
their  discovery  and  removal  would  cause  him  to  retain  his 
wolf's  shape  for  life.  Some  of  these  circumstances  are  also 
to  be  found  in  the  above  legend ;  which  appears  to  be  com- 
posed partly  of  the  lay  by  Marie,  and  partly  of  a  narrative 
cited  in  Pliny's  Natural  History,  book  viii.  chap.  22,  from 
Evanthes,  a  Greek  author  of  repute,  concerning  a  sort  of  doom 
in  a  branch  of  the  family  of  the  Antiti  in  Arcadia,  in  which 
there  was  always  to  be  a  Wehr-wolf,  who  recovered  his  human 
shape,  if  during  his  nine  years  of  transformation  lie  could 
refrain  from  devouring  flesh.  The  action  which  the  poem 
recounts,  is,  however,  of  much  later  time ;  since  Pliny  was 
destroyed  at  Herculaneum  in  A.D.  70,  and  St.  Anthony,  who 
is  afterwards  mentioned,  died  in  A.  D.  356,  aged  105. 


1G4      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

Then,  witli  repentant  heart  and  eyes, 

He  pour'd  his  jjrayers  unto  the  skies  ; 

Abjured  at  once  the  direful  spell 

That  seal'd  his  covenant  with  Hell ; 

And  vow'd,  though  hard  might  prove  the  strife, 

To  Heaven  his  yet-remaining  life. 

Then,  for  his  wolfish  sanguine  vest, 

A  hermit's  hair-cloth  round  him  press'd ; 

For  wizard's  wand,  the  cross  he  bore, 

The  mass-book,  for  unholy  lore  ; 

For  fiendish  song,  his  sacred  chaunt 

Or  prayer-bell,  marked  his  lonely  haunt ; 

And  his  whole  life  was  never  yet 

Equall'd  by  monk  or  anchoret, 

That  e'er  in  penance-cell's  recess, 

Cave  of  the  sea,  or  wilderness, 

Sought  with  the  direst  pains  to  win 

Heaven's  mercy  to  a  life  of  sin. 

AVell  may  ye  deem  the  fiends,  whose  power 

He  'scaped  in  that  repentant  hour 

Now  fiercely  did  assail  his  cave 

And  bade  him  think  Heaven  could  not  save  ! 

Midnight  and  morn  they  hover'd  round, 

To  tempt,  to  mock,  affright,  confound  ; 

And  ever,  'midst  his  warmest  prayer, 

Shriek'd  in  wild  tones, — '  Despair! — Despair  !' 

VI. 

"  'Twas  at  this  time  that  fame  spake  high 
Of  brave  and  holy  Anthony, 

Who,  in  Mizraim's  land 
Against  a  foe  more  fearful  yet 
Than  ever  mortal  warrior  met. 

Kept  his  unyielding  stand. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  165 

Who,  when  the  midnight  tempest  burst 
In  demon-hosts  and  forms  accurst, 

And  countless  as  the  sand, — 
Withstood  them  with  undaunted  look, 
Whom  bribes  ne'er  moved,  nor  teiTors  shook. 
His  shield  the  blessed  Gospel-book, 

The  holy  Cross  his  brand. 
To  him,  albeit,  'twas  far  to  roam 
O'er  Egypt's  deserts  to  his  home, 
Young  County,  did  thy  sire,  in  woe 
For  counsel,  shrift,  and  penance,  go  : 
And  the  good  Saint  did  more  rejoice 
O'er  his  repentant  tears  and  voice, — 
Who  sought  in  pilgrim-weeds  the  road 
That  leads  from  Sathanas  to  God, — 
Than  for  the  world  his  praise  to  tell. 
Or  purpled  Kings  to  seek  his  cell. 

In  brief,  thine  ancestor  was  shriven. 
Absolved,  and  re-assur'd  of  Heaven  ; 
Cross'd  and  sent  forth  with  prayers  to  aid. 
Though  on  his  House  the  doom  was  laid, — 
That  the  next  heir,  in  this  wild  land 
Should  three  years  of  temptation  stand, 
Whilst  his  dark  foes  all  arts  should  use, 
Another  Wehr-wolf  to  seduce  ! 

Thus  will  it  prove  a  fearful  strife 
That  shall  assail  thine  hermit-life. 
And  wiliest  foes  will  seek  to  win 
By  bliss  or  bale,  thine  heart  to  sin  : 
But  fear  thou  not,  resist  each  charm. 
Fierce  though  they  seem,  they  cannot  harm  ; 
Whiles  thou  shalt  watch,  resist,  and  i)ray. 
Nor  seek  uncall'd  from  thence  to  stray. 


166  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

But  should  they  triumph  ! — then  in  vain 
Thou  lookest  towards  thine  home  again  ; 
Farewell  vuito  Anlxnis'  heir, 
Farewell  unto  thy  virtues  fair ; 
For  both  within  this  forest  gloom 
Shall  meet  their  sad  and  early  tomb, 
And  thy  long  line  of  Princes  brave 
Blasted  by  thee  ! — shall  find  it's  grave  !  " 

VII. 

As  closed  the  Knight,  his  horn  he  blew, 
AVhich  on  the  lake  call'd  forth  to  view 

A  boat  that  near'd  the  side  ; 
'Twas  rudely  framed  of  bark  I  ween, 
But  yet  no  living  wight  within 

Appear'd  it's  course  to  guide  ! 
Full  soon  was  pass'd  the  farewell-word. 
And  when  Antaeus  stepp'd  aboard 

It  was  the  even-tide. 
SwilYly  the  vessel  sprang  from  shore. 
But, — though  it  look'd  some  Hight-shot  o'er, 

The  lake  spread  far  and  wide ; 
It's  rufiling  waves  now  seem'd  to  be 
The  current  of  some  swelling  sea. 

Which  to  the  gale  replied : 
The  wild  wood-brake,  too,  did  expand 
Into  as  fair  a  forest  land. 

As  ever  mortal  spied. 
He  rcach'd  the  shore  at  even  bright. 
When  lusty  summer's  latest  light 
Was  Hashing  on  that  wondrous  bower. 
And  gilding  greenwood  leaf  and  llower. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  167 

Where  the  warm  sun  with  rich  delay 
Had  touch'd  them  with  the  last  of  day. 

Aye,  such  those  ancient  woods  have  been 
A  wild,  but  yet  a  goodly  scene, 
To  those  whose  fancy  would  behold 
How  the  earth  look'd  in  days  of  old : 
\Vlien,  o'er  those  realms  where  cities  stand 
Or  yellow  cornfields  crown  the  land. 
Spread  many  a  forest's  leafy  lair 
Shelt'rmg  the  satyr,  wolf,  and  bear ; 
As  if  a  sylvan  Hood  had  hurl'd 
It's  deluge  over  half  the  world  : 
And  though  their  glory  long  hath  past 
How  many  mighty  reliques  last ! 
Preserv'd  for  after-times  to  view 
The  ffiant-scenes  their  fathers  knew. 

VIII. 

The  golden  sun  that  lately  glow'd 
With  lustre  on  the  forest-road, 

Soon  to  his  tent  retired  ; 
The  greenwood,  which  the  dusky  fold 
Of  mist  and  vapour  now  enroU'd, 

No  more  his  radiance  fired. 
But,  as  the  solemn  hours  drew  nigh 
Of  silence  and  obscurity. 

Within  that  distant  wood, 
The  County,  whilst  enough  of  light 
AVas  left  to  guide  his  roving  sight, 

Mark'd  where  a  ruin  stood. 
The  moss  and  ivy  o'er  it  grew, 
Where  once  a  warrior's  banner  flew  ; 


168      XHK  LAST  OF  THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

Dark  wild-flowers  wreath'tl  the  windows  round, 

Where  ladve's  bower  of  old  was  found ; 

Long  grass  had  clothed  the  ample  floor, 

Which  golden  arras  cover'd  o'er ; 

And  all  the  pile,  though  still  sublime. 

Had  bow'd  beneath  the  scythe  of  Time. 

He  stretcli'd  him  in  that  lonely  spot 

To  wait  the  night's  uncertam  lot ; 

For,  train'd  in  arms,  alike  he  found 

The  softest  couch  or  heathery  ground, 

And  they  who  martial  fame  would  hail 

Sleep  best  and  bravest  in  their  mail. 

Yet  ere  the  County  courted  rest. 

That  e'en  those  ruins  might  be  blest 

From  such  as  sought,  in  powerful  train, 

With  deadliest  sin  his  soul  to  stain, — 

His  warrior-hymns  and  prayers  arose 

For  strength  against  his  unseen  foes, 

And  holy  echoes  round  him  rung 

As  to  Saint  George  these  strains  he  sung. 

IX. 

Evening  Hymn  to  Saint  Geouge. 

"  Saint !  Soldier  !  Martyr  ! — by  each  name 

Inspired  by  men's  or  angels'  praise ; 
Oh  !  let  a  fellow-warrior  claim 
Thine  ear  unto  his  evening-lays. 
The  prayers  I  breathe,  the  hymns  I  raise. 

Are  rude  and  brief,  but  thou  know'st  well 
E'en  though  bereft  of  jjriestl}'  phrase. 
In  whom  the  pious  heart  doth  dwell : 

Ave,  Sancte  Ceorgi  ! 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  169 

Be  thou  to-night  my  patron-guard, 

From  aught  of  ill  that  lurketh  nigh ; 
Nor  would  my  soul  thy  watch  discard 
E'en  when  the  morning  shines  on  hi^h. 
My  ghostly  foes  thou  canst  descry, 

'Gainst  those  of  earth,  this  blade  shall  be 
My  best  defence  and  prompt  reply, 
Yet  when  T  strike, — strike  thou  with  me  : 

Ave,  Sancte  Georgi  ! 

And  now  I  bend  me  to  that  sign 

And  symbol  of  our  common  Lord, 
The  Cross,  which  decks  thy  shield  divine, 
And  stands  upon  my  faithful  sword ; 
Oh  !  by  that  sacred  badge  afford 

Thine  intercessions  to  my  cries, 
And  be  thou,  Soldier-Saint,  adored 
By  every  champion  for  the  skies : 

Ora  pro  nobis  Georgi  !" 


Whilst  thus  arose  the  County's  lay 
Darker  and  darker  grew  the  day, 

But  when  he  couch'd  his  head, 
Unwonted  thoughts  within  his  breast 
Seem'd  struggling  to  forbid  his  rest, 

And  sleep  his  eyes  had  fled. 
"  'Tis  strange,"  he  cried,  "  that  belted  Knight 
Who  spurns  at  ease  and  soft  delight, 
AVhose  limbs  encased  in  mail  and  steel 
May  seldom  gentler  vestments  feel, 
Whose  fare  is  hard,  whose  course  throughout 
Hath  I)rief  repose  and  constant  doubt, 


170      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

Should  courting  want  to  sluuiber's  bliss 

E'en  on  a  bed  so  rude  as  this. 

But  when  these  towers  were  in  their  pride 

A  fairer  couch  had  they  supplied ; 

And  then  the  minstrels  would  have  told 

Mj  coming  on  their  harps  of  gold ; 

This  hall  had  glow'd  with  tapers'  light, 

And  festive  board,  and  goblet  bright ; 

Then,  should  my  wearied  limbs  have  lain 

On  costly  furs,  till  morn  again 

Had  call'd  me  to  advance 
Into  the  lists  of  martial  fame, 
Where  knights  of  worth  and  'squires  of  name. 
And  many  a  fair  and  noble  dame, 

Had  praised  my  gallant  lance. 
How  fares  it  now  !  these  walls  surround 
A  lonely  spot  of  forest-gi'ound. 
Still  is  the  merry  minstrel-sound, 

And  closed  the  stately  dance  ! 
Their  lights  are  now  the  pallid  gleam 
Of  the  night-planet's  flickering  beam. 
That  tints  the  walls  with  lambent  stream 

Half-broken  and  askance ! 
Oh  !  if  the  dead  can  look  upon 
The  things  of  earth,  whence  they  are  gone. 
Can  view  their  proudest  piles  of  stone 
Disdain'd,  deserted,  and  o'erthrown. 
Nought  of  their  names  or  actions  known, — 

How  painful  were  the  glance  ! 

XI. 

"  But  fouler  spirits  rove,  I  wis, 
In  ancient  ruin  such  as  this 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  I?! 

With  evil  purpose  still ; 
Wailing,  perchance,  their  towers'  decay, 
Or,  clad  in  dread  or  quaint  array, 
With  spectre-masque  and  goblin-play, 
Long-vanish'd  scenes  again  pourtray, 

And  these  void  chambers  fill 
With  many  a  vision  of  the  past, 
Too  wild  for  truth,  too  foul  to  last ; 

Yet,  be  it  good  or  ill 
Which  lingers  in  these  lonely  towers, 
Oft  to  return  when  darkness  lowers, 
And  revel  through  the  midnight  hours,  — 

Here  lies  a  Christian  Knight 
Who  all  unchanged  can  on  them  look, 
Well  can  the  phantom-pageant  brook 
Whom  fiend  nor  mortal  never  shook. 

The  foeman  nor  the  sprite. 
Though  wizard-ghosts, — of  lofty  line 
Of  Blankenburg  and  Ilodenstein, 
Or  Barbaross,  whose  court  is  made 
In  dark  Hercynia's  wildest  glade, — 
Should  rise,  as  they  were  wont  to  come 
Ere  they  departed  to  the  tomb. 
And  with  their  fierce  and  giant  train 
Should  fill  these  ruin'd  halls  again. 
With  power  to  fright,  assail,  or  kill, 
Or  gifts  to  win  me  to  their  will, — 
Unmoved  such  scenes  should  meet  mine  eye, 
Unstain'd  my  soul  should  them  defy  ! " 


XII. 

He  ceas'd,  and  like  the  words  of  power 
That  wizard  speaks  at  solcnui  hour, 


172  THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

When  at  his  call  appear 
The  spirits  of  the  earth  and  clouds, 
In  shininj^  Ibrms  and  legion -crowds, 

And  e'en  the  dead  must  hear  ;  — 
So,  in  those  ruins  dark  and  lone. 
Sudden  a  stately  palace  shone, 

Up  flew  the  lights  amain  ; 
And,  clad  in  robes  long  laid  aside 
For  some  more  new  device  of  pride, 

In  swept  a  knightly  train  ! 
And  there  were  mantle,  pall,  and  vair, 
Tissue  and  velvets  rich  and  fair ; 
With  blazon'd  shields  of  chiefs  who  Ions 
Were  known  alike  in  fight  and  song. 
Whose  armour  flash'd  with  hues  as  bright 
As  if 'twere  mortal  steel  and  light ! 

Then  mark'd  Antaeus  each  warrior  round 
A  rough  and  sanguine  wolf-skin  bound  ; 
And  he  who  was  the  chief,  I  ween. 
Of  loftiest  height  and  fiercest  mien. 
In  voice  most  fearful  thus  address'd. 
The  wizard  crowd  that  round  him  press'd. 
"  Welcome  Arcadia's  Wehr- wolves  all 
Unto  your  solemn  festival! 
Rejoice  !  for  to  your  ancient  home 
Another  mortal  Knight  hath  come  ; 
Who,  questionless  doth  seek  to  be 
Admitted  of  your  chivalry  : — 
For  it  were  vain  but  to  suppose 
He  scorns  our  might,  or  holds  us  foes, 
Since  not  a  living  wight  would  dare 
To  rush  so  madly  on  despair  : — 
Therefore,  being  knowni  a  soldier  tried 
Who  stoutly  fights  and  swil't  can  ride. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  173 

Let  him  approach,  and  on  his  knee 
Swear  unto  us  his  fealty, 
Then  grasp  each  hardy  comrade's  hand. 
And  thus  a  gallant  Wehr-wolf  stand  !" 

XIII. 

Briefly,  but  bold,  the  County  cried 
That  he  that  demon-host  defied 

In  all  it's  powers  accurst ; 
And,  in  the  strength  of  God,  whate'er 
The  foulest  of  the  band  might  dare, 
Arm'd  with  keen  blade  and  holy  prayer 

He  fear'd  not  for  the  worst. 
Then,  with  wild  cry,  that  lighted  tower 
Was  changed  to  midnight's  darkest  hour, 

And  forth  their  fury  burst ! 
But  'twere  too  fearful  and  too  long, 
To  tell  in  this  my  hasty  song 

How  the  young  County  durst 
Their  wiles  and  force  alike  withstand 
Who  sought  to  link  him  to  their  band ; 
Whether,  as  now,  they  came  full  gay 
With  trump,  and  masque,  and  quaint  array ; 
f)r,  when  at  night  with  hideous  yell, 
Like  wolves  they  howl'd  around  his  cell ; 
Or,  whether,  when  the  tempest  roar'd. 
To  shake  his  faith  their  legions  pour'd, 
In  quaintest  forms  with  wildest  screams 
Thick  as  the  motes  in  summer's  beams  : — 
All  these  he  saw  unmov'ti,  liis  prayer 
Rose  ever  'midst  that  wild  despair. 
And,  till  he  heard  the  bugle-strain, 
Unscared,  unwon,  did  he  remain. 


174     THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

XIV. 

But  ere  we  mark  that  signal-note 
Call  on  the  forest-lake  the  boat 

liack  for  Antaeus  to  fare, 
I  ween  one  look  must  given  be 
Unto  the  Court  at  Arcadie, 

To  learn  what  passeth  there. 
Ye  would  not  deem  a  Prince  so  good 
As  young  Antseus  might  waken  feud, 

A  subject's  heart  within  ; 
But  he  possess'd  a  lovely  bride. 
From  whom  to  sever  much  he  sigh'd. 

His  trial  to  begin  : 
And  there  was  one  who  oft  had  sought 
To  win  him  to  her  lustful  thought. 

Yet  ne'er  might  favour  win. 
Whence  her  dark  soul  had  ponder'd  still, 
So  long  the  secret  arts  of  ill. 

She  found  deep  means  to  sin. 
The  three  years  had  not  fully  fled 
Though  Time  with  untired  wings  had  sped, 
Whilst  that  3'oung  bride  in  sadness  sate 
Revolving  o'er  her  County's  fate  ; — 
For  hidden  from  her  must  be  perforce 
The  space  and  secret  of  his  course, — 
When,  with  soft  voice,  that  evil  one 
Told  her,  how  in  the  woods  alone 
Her  noble  lord  was  bound  to  stray, 
Till,  call'd  by  her  to  come  away. 

AVith  raptured  eye  and  Joyful  look 
I  ween  a  page's  garb  she  took. 
And  braced  around  her  vestments  sheen 
A  sword  of  temper  true  and  keen, 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  175 

Then  on  her  palfrey  lightly  stept, 
Shook  bridle-rein  and  onward  leapt, 
Till,  all  untired,  by  even's  light 
The  cross  and  lake  were  full  in  sight. 

Well  may  ye  ween  her  County's  shield 
She  knew  in  tourney,  wood,  or  field  ; 
Well  may  ye  ween  she  knew  his  steed, 
Left  on  the  forest-  vert  to  feed ; 
Well  may  ye  ween  she  tried  to  wake 
His  bugle  in  that  greenwood-brake  : 
And,  think  not  that  I  speak  untrue, 
When  I  declare  such  blast  she  blew. 
That  wood  and  covert  echoed  round 
The  loud  and  all  unwonted  sound  ; 
Though  ever,  as  the  sylvan  strain 
Blithely  arose,  it  sank  again 
Into  a  moui'nful  note  and  low, 
As  if  it  prophesied  of  woe. 
Nay,  some  have  said  that  with  it  blent 
Strange  sounds  of  fiendish  merriment  ! 
I  ween  it  might  be  so,  full  well. 
But  if  tis  sooth  I  cannot  tell. 

XV. 

In  the  greenwood  'tis  June,  'tis  June, 
But  the  blithe  birds  have  ceas'd  their  tune, 

As  if  from  every  tree 
The  forest-minstrels  all  had  fled, 
Or  it  were  winter  wild  and  dread, 

And  winds  moan'd  heavilie  : 
There  was  no  sign  of  life  I  wot 
When  the  horn  through  that  lonely  spot 

Pour'd  it's  sad  harmonie  ; 


170      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

But  when  the  echoes  'gan  to  wake, 
A  boat  upon  the  forest-lake 

The  County's  bride  might  see. 
Swiftly  the  tide  it  traversed  o'er, 
Swiftly  Antseus  sprang  to  shore. 
Saw  but  his  own  dear  bonnibelle, 
Which  no  disguise  from  him  could  veil ; 
Then,  as  their  tears  of  rapture  gush'd, 
Each  to  the  other  quickly  rush'd. 
And,  in  those  fond  embraces  lost, 
Deem'd  not  what  price  that  bliss  had  cost. 

I  would  that  harp  and  voice  might  fail 
To  leave  the  rest  an  untold  tale, 
Or  that  I  might  all  else  forget, 
Save  their  delight  who  thus  had  met ; 
But  I  must  on,  my  chords  must  sound, 
Howe'er  the  words  or  notes  may  wovmd  ; 
Sadly,  though  truly,  must  I  tell 
The  chance  of  that  young  damosell. 
Who,  all  unwitting,  summon'd  home 
Her  lord,  ere  yet  fulfil'd  his  doom. 
And  aided  thus  his  foes  to  gain 
A  triumph  they  had  sought  in  vain  ! 
From  that  sad  hour,  Antaeus'  line 
In  Arcadie  hath  met  decline ; 
And  never  heir  was  found  to  claim 
The  princedom  or  the  ancient  name  ; 
And  but  this  lay  is  left  to  shew 
Their  story  wondrous,  sad,  and  true. 

For  the  two  lovers,  living  one 
Hath  never  since  them  look'd  upon  ; 
But  deep  and  ancient  lore  yet  saith, 
That,  for  the  Coimty's  spotless  faith. 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  177 

They  live  and  love  from  sorrow  free, 
In  some  far  land  of  Arcadie ; 
"WHiere  all  their  virtues,  which  on  earth 
Had  but  their  budding-hour  and  birtli, 
Are  into  perfect  beauty  blown. 
And  vice  and  time  are  all  unknown  ! 


Gentles,  Adieu  !— My  Lay  is  o'er. 
Yet  deem  not  that  tliis  tale  of  yore 

No  goodly  moral  shews  ; 
'Tis  like  the  wise  men's  speech  of  old, 
Wlien  they  were  wont  their  lore  to  fold 

In  tales  and  fabliaux. 
Both  they  who  hear,  and  he  who  sings 
It's  strains  unto  his  trembling  strings. 

It  may  full  well  employ ; 
One  moment  more  those  strains  receive 
Ere  yet  your  Minstrel  take  his  leave 

In  thankfullest  Envoy. 
The  ancient  Wizard-prince,  who  fell 
Into  a  fatal  league  with  Hell, 

"Was  he  who  once  did  stand 
Full  high,  till  Sathan  him  o'ercame. 
And  saw  him  driven  in  guilt  and  shame 

From  Eden's  blessed  land. 
The  desert  is  the  world,  wherein 
The  Almighty  sent  his  i-ace  of  sin. 

Against  the  Fiend  to  fight ; 
And  if  they  quit  them  well,  I  wis, 
He  calls  them  to  a  land  of  bliss. 

His  world  of  endless  light. 


N 


17H  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

The  bugle  is  the  blast  of  Death, 

The  three  years'  space,  man's  hour  of  breath 

And  this  life's  rapid  flight. 
Whence  may  we  all  triumphant  rise 
What  time  that  trump  shall  burst  the  skies, 

And  earth  shall  vanish  quite. 
Now  thanks  to  all  who  patientlie 
Have  listed  this  rude  minstrelsie, — 

Gentles,— Good  Night !— Good  Night  ! 

Whilst  tlie  Minstrel  recounted  this  history,  I  forgot 
not  the  words  whispered  unto  me  by  the  stranger 
Clerk,  and  though  there  was  somewhat  in  his  voice 
and  demeanour  which  seemed  as  if  I  had  known  them 
afore,  yet  did  I  in  mine  heart  wonder  who  he  might 
be  that  gave  me  such  wary  counsel,  and  what  might 
be  signified  by  his  caution.  Howbeit,  though  I 
seemed  not  specially  to  regard  him,  I  vigilantly  watch- 
ed his  movements,  with  much  impatience  looking  for 
his  departure,  although  I  knew  not  well  what  I  might 
expect  therefrom. 

At  length,  whiles  the  listening  rustics  Avere  intent 
upon  the  wondrous  tale  of  the  INIinstrel,  the  wily 
Clerk  cautiously  departed  from  his  fellows  and  went 
forth ;  and  when  I  deemed  that  I  might  follow  him 
unmarked  of  those  around  us,  I  warily  did  the  like. 
As  I  looked  abroad  without  the  hostel,  I  found  that 
it  was  a  darksome  night ;  and  though  in  summer, 
was  yet  blustering  with  raw  winds,  for  the  clouds 
racked  amain   over  the  yellow  face   of  the    waning 


THK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  179 

moon,  which  was  now  dim,  and  anon  was  lighted  up 
with  a  pale  sickly  lustre :  well  typifying,  as  me- 
thought,  the  disturbed  estate  of  the  realm  at  this  time. 
I  then  gazed  around  me  for  him  who  had  called  me 
forth,  never  doubting  that  I  should  find  him  tarrying 
for  me  in  the  village  street,  but  I  saw  him  not ;  where- 
upon I  walked  some  paces  from  the  hostel,  deeming 
that  he  might  have  withdrawn  himself  not  to  be  mark- 
ed, yet  was  he  nowhere  to  be  found.  Not  knowing 
what  to  think  of  this  seeming  mockery,  and  half- 
believing  that  I  had  been  lured  abroad  in  wanton 
sport  to  make  mirth  for  the  rude  hinds  within  the 
hostel,  I  fell  into  somewhat  of  a  sullen  musing  there- 
upon, and  was  about  to  return  again,  when  one  whom 
I  had  not  before  marked,  suddenly  started  out  of  that 
part  where  the  darkness  was  deepest,  and  with  his 
hands  made  sign  unto  me  that  I  should  be  silent 
and  go  forward ;  pointing  unto  a  distant  and  lonely 
little  cottage  on  a  heath,  where  he  briefly  told  me  I 
should  find  a  friend  who  did  full  anxiously  await  my 
coming,  and  forthwith  departed  without  farther 
speech. 

For  some  brief  space  I  vainly  looked  after  him, 
and  then,  much  doubting  the  truth  of  his  words,  and 
sadly  musing  on  mine  own  uncertain  safety,  I  wan- 
dered forward,  not  marking  whither  I  went,  until  I 
found  me  at  the  door  of  the  very  hut  whereto  he  had 
pointed ;  through  the  half-closed  window  of  which 
a   pale  ray  of  light,  as   of  a  single   taper,   gleamed 


180  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

moiu'nfully  across  the  heath.  Upon  thus  finding  my- 
self at  the  appointed  spot,  sad  and  hopeless  thougli  it 
seemed,  1  smote  gently  upon  the  door,  but  answer 
came  none :  I  then  struck  it  a  second  time,  but  all 
was  still  silent ;  whereupon  I  assayed  to  open  it,  and, 
as  it  gave  way  beneath  my  hand,  I  soon  found  me 
within  the  lone  and  melancholy  dwelling.  Sad,  and 
rude,  and  silent,  was  the  scene  which  I  did  then  be- 
hold ;  the  walls  of  the  hut  being  coarsely  framed  of 
the  wattled  trunks  of  trees,  plastered  with  rough 
earth  and  damp  clay,  whiles  the  mean  and  scanty 
furniture  lay  disordered  around.  The  solitary  light 
I  had  already  marked,  threw  a  pallid  and  uncertain 
gleam  about  the  hovel,  but  fell  chiefly  upon  a  narrow 
bed  of  straw  laid  in  the  midst  thereof,  upon  Avhich 
was  stretched  out  a  dead  corse,  having  it's  feet  towards 
the  door,  and  covered  with  a  white  sheet.  At  the 
head,  where  the  shade  was  deepest,  it  seemed  unto  me 
as  if  there  sat  upon  the  ground  a  man  in  black  gar- 
ments, his  face  bowed  between  his  knees  and  covered 
with  his  hands,  as  if  borne  down  with  the  heaviest 
sorrow  ;  yet  did  I  greatly  marvel  what  manner  of 
persons  these  might  be,  seeing  that  in  all  their  exe- 
quies there  was  no  sign  of  the  blessed  cross,  to  shew 
that  the  departed  spirit  had  taken  it's  flight  in  the 
true  Faith.  As  I  suddenly  came  in  sight  of  this  most 
solemn  scene,  I  started  somewhat  backward,  and 
deeming  myself  to  be  altogether  unwelcome  in  that 
place,  was  minded  quickly  to  depart  therefrom  ;  when 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS,  181 

he  who  sat  in  the  farther  part  of  the  hut  suddenly 
looked  upwards,  as  mine  approach  brake  in  upon  the 
silence  of  his  sorrows,  and  as  he  beheld  me  he  hastily 
stretched  out  his  arms  towards  me  and  said, — "  Oh  ! 
son  of  mine  adoption,  is  it  from  me  that  thou  wouldest 
fly  ?  Knowest  thou  not  then  the  form  of  him  who  hath 
desired  again  to  embrace  thee,  and  the  voice  that 
would  bid  thee  welcome,  even  in  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing and  the  hour  of  death  ?" 

Every  thought  of  treachery  now  vanished,  as  in 
these  words  I  recognised  the  well-known  voice  of 
my  former  humane  protector,  Israel  of  Castile ;  and 
there  wanted  no  other  assurance  that  for  me  there 
was  no  danger  in  that  place,  I  therefore  sprang  for- 
ward unto  him,  and  ere  I  could  reply  he  threw  his 
arms  around  me  and  wept  aloud,  whiles  he  thus  gave 
speech  unto  the  emotions  of  his  soul. — '^'  Oh  !  my  son, 
thou  art  returned  vmto  me  in  hajDless  hour  ;  and  yet, 
even  in  the  very  depths  of  my  sorrow,  do  I  rejoice 
once  more  to  behold  thy  face,  since  thou  wert  ever 
unto  me  as  a  sun-beam  on  my  dreary  waste  of  life, 
and  as  a  well-spring  flowing  in  the  wilderness.  Whi- 
ther hast  thou  so  long  wandered,  and  where  have  thy 
sojournings  been  even  until  now  .^  I  have  suffered 
much  because  of  thee,  albeit  my  sorrow  hath  been 
deepest  for  that  I  knew  not  of  thy  fate,  and  whether 
thou  wast  in  the  dark  grave  or  yet  in  the  land  of  liv- 
ing men  ;  since  to  sustain  thy  youth,  was  a  solace  unto 
mine  old  age  and  a  blessing  unto  my  grey  hairs." 


182  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

"  Speak  not  thus,"  i-eplied  I,  with  much  soitow,  "  I 
pray  thee,  good  Israel,  speak  not  thus,  since  every 
word  of  kindness  bears  with  it  the  keenest  reproaches 
unto  my  soul.  You,  indeed,  sustained  me  with  a  free 
and  open  bounty,  which  I  trust  that  Heaven  will  yet 
requite  ;  but  I  must  have  seemed  a  thankless  ingrate 
in  your  eyes,  to  have  forgotten  even  for  an  hour  the 
pious  charity  of  one,  who  administered  unto  my  wants 
with  an  unsparing  hand,  however  it's  liberality  might 
be  felt  upon  his  substance." 

"  Felt  it  was  never,"  exclaimed  Israel,  "  for  as  the 
widow  of  Zarephath  found  her  stores  unlesseiied  by 
the  aid  which  she  bestowed  upon  the  holy  Prophet, 
because  the  God  of  Elijah  did  still  keep  her  little 
cruse  of  oil  from  failing,  and  her  handful  of  meal  from 
wasting, — so  did  my  poor  substance  remain  undimi- 
nished whiles  thou  wert  with  me ;  as  if  Heaven  had 
given  me  a  blessing  for  having  ministered  unto  thee, 
and  overcome  the  temptations  which  the  Enemy 
awakened  in  mine  heart  against  thee.  But  now,  my 
son,"  continued  the  Hebrew  with  a  sudden  burst  of 
sorrow,  "  I  may  take  u})  my  complaint  with  the  mourn- 
ful son  of  Hilkiah,  and  say,  '  I  am  the  man  that 
hath  seen  affliction  by  the  rod  of  His  wrath' ;  yea, 
that  which  1  was  afraid  of  hath  indeed  come  unto  me.' 
'  Oh  !  that  I  were  as  in  months  past,  as  in  the  days 
when  God  preserved  me.'  For  from  the  sad  hour 
when  thou  didst  depart  from  me,  sorrows  came  in  upon 
me  as  the  wild  breaking  of  waters,  and  my  welfare 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  183 

passed  away  as  a  cloud.  But  now,  sit  thee  down 
beside  me,  my  son,  even  as  the  friends  of  Job  sat 
down  with  him  in  his  affliction,  and  let  us  raise  up 
the  voice  of  our  mourning  together,  for  the  dead  one 
which  lieth  before  thee  is  Naomi,  that  blessed  woman, 
and  the  beloved  of  my  soul  !" 

I  heard  this  with  no  little  surprise  and  sorrow,  and 
silently  seated  me  beside  him,  whereupon  the  Jew 
seemed  to  take  a  mournful  kind  of  joy  in  speaking 
unto  me  of  the  virtues  and  piety  of  his  departed  spouse, 
telling  me  many  excellent  passages  of  her  life,  and 
specially  of  her  benevolence  and  affection  unto  myself. 
New  tears  began  to  course  down  the  hapless  Hebrew's 
cheeks  whilst  he  recounted  unto  me  the  causes  that 
led  unto  her  death,  in  the  wild  and  fierce  persecutions 
whereby  they  had  been  so  long  assailed,  and  which 
had  been  afresh  kindled  against  them  at  Leicester. 
These,  blent  with  sorrow  for  my  loss,  at  last  brake  the 
heart  of  her,  who  had  yearned  over  me  like  a  tender 
mother  ;  and  whose  spirit  on  that  morning  had  quitted 
the  flesh,  after  having  been  so  long  drooping  over  the 
grave.  I  can,  even  now,  scarcely  speak  of  this  mourn- 
ful scene,  albeit  a  long  space  of  years  hath  fled  since 
I  beheld  it,  and  old  age  hath  brought  me  unto  the 
confines  of  life,  where  Time  and  Eternity  have  their 
meeting-place.  The  very  thought  of  it  still  awakens 
the  keenest  affliction  within  my  breast,  yet  truth  and 
gratitude  do  alike  bid  me,  never  to  forget  the  ])ious 
and  generous  friend  of  mine  unfriended  youth. 


184  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

As  I  sat  by  Israel  in  the  posture  of  mourning  pro- 
per unto  the  Jewish  Faith,  he  told  me  that  Naomi 
had  made  a  most  blessed  ending,  duly  repeating  all 
the  prayers  ordained  for  such  as  are  in  their  last 
hours  ;  but  as  it  now  drew  nigh  unto  midnight,  and 
the  Hebrew  law  did  require  that  the  corse  should  be 
sepultured  within  the  twenty-four  hours  after  death, — 
he  did  entreat  me  to  watch  beside  the  body  whilst  he 
went  forth  to  prepare  her  grave ;  for  that  he  would 
fain  bury  it  in  darkness,  that  it  might  be  according 
to  the  rites  of  his  fathers.  He  conjured  me  to  do  this, 
saying  that  the  spirit  of  her  who  lay  there  was  even 
then  hovering  around  us,  and  would  know  all  that  was 
done  for  her  until  the  last  spade  of  earth  should  be 
thrown  upon  the  body.  He  added  thereunto,  that 
she  would  be  consoled  by  the  ministration  of  so  be- 
loved a  friend  as  myself;  and  cautioned  me  to  watch 
warily,  lest  the  earth-worm  and  creeping-thing  should 
approach  unto  that  body  to  deface  it,  because  death 
had  taken  from  it's  features  the  godly  likeness  to  it's 
Creator,  which  in  life  causeth  the  beasts  of  the  earth 
to  be  subject  unto  man.  He  then  went  forth  to  per- 
form his  melancholy  task,  and  I  sat  me  down  by  the 
corse,  pitying  his  blinded  spirit,  and  sad  at  heart  both 
for  the  living  and  the  dead.  Howbeit,  when  I  re- 
membered the  gentleness,  virtue,  and  piety  of  the  de- 
parted, in  so  much  as  it  had  been  given  her  to  know, 
I  felt  great  hope  of  the  mercy  of  God  towards  her ; 
and,  although   it  was    with   a   trembling    voice    and 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  185 

doubtful  heart,  I  said  over  the  body  that  collect  which 
the  Christian  Church  hath  appointed  for  the  day  of 
death  or  burial :  praying  that  she  who  was  now  called 
hence  might  not  be  forgotten  for  ever,  but  niiglit  be 
delivered  from  the  Enemy,  received  by  the  holy 
Angels,  and  carried  into  Paradise. 

As  I  concluded,  the  Jew  returned,  bearing  a  Ian- 
thorn,  a  spade,  and  a  little  linen  cloth,  enwrapping, 
as  he  said,  some  of  the  earth  of  the  Land  of  Israel,  to 
put  beneath  the  head  of  the  corse,  for  it's  protection  ; 
and  thereupon  removing  the  sheet  from  the  body,  he 
entreated  of  me  to  bear  it  unto  the  grave.  It  was 
clothed  in  a  long  white  garment,  the  feet  being  cover- 
ed, and  the  head  l)ound  up  with  a  cloth,  yet  so  that  the 
face  was  open  ;  and  saving  that  the  seal  of  Death  was 
there,  and  that  sorrow  had  made  it's  features  sad  and 
sunken,  the  good  Naomi  lay  as  though  she  had  slept 
and  smiled :  so  calm,  so  beauteous,  are  the  looks  of 
the  virtuous  in  death.  It  was  such  a  night  as  I  have 
before  noted,  when  Israel  and  myself  went  silently 
forth  of  the  hovel  into  a  narrow  and  desolate  garden, 
at  the  farther  end  of  which  he  had  dug  his  wife's  low 
grave,  in  imitation  of  the  old  Jewish  custom  of  bury- 
ing in  sucli  solitary  places.  Before  we  laid  the  body 
gently  therein,  it  was  again  stretched  out  upoTi  the 
ground,  and  Israel  approaching  it  took  it  liold  of  the 
feet  thereof,  and  prayed  the  deceased  to  forgive  him  if 
he  had  in  auglit  offended  her  whiles  on  earth,  and 
not  to  report  evil  against  him  in  the  next  world  :   ful- 


18()  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

lowing  this  by  stabbing  the  I'ight  side  of  his  gaber- 
dine with  a  knife,  and  then  rending  it  about  an  hand- 
breadth  in  length,  saying  "  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord 
our  God,  King  of  the  Universe  !  who  hast  commanded 
us  to  make  the  rent  in  our  garments."  After  this  we 
lowered  the  body  of  Naomi  to  it's  last  resting-place, 
and  the  widowed  Jew  thrice  casting  upon  it  a  spade- 
ful of  earth,  walked  backwards  from  the  grave,  and 
entreated  of  me  to  finish  the  filling  of  it  up. 

As  these  melancholy  rites  were  ended,  the  dark 
and  windy  night  resolved  itself  into  a  still  and  gentle 
shower,  which  fell  lightly  upon  the  turf  that  covered 
Naomi  of  Castile,  as  it  were  the  rich  dews  of  Hermon 
shed  upon  her  remains.  In  quitting  the  garden,  Israel 
plucked  a  turf  of  grass,  and  casting  it  over  his  head, 
said,  in  token  of  his  trust  that  she  should  rise  again, 
"  And  they  shall  spring  in  the  Cities  as  the  grass  in 
the  earth  ;"  and  then,  entering  the  house,  he  left  the 
body  of  his  beloved  spouse  to  rest  in  peace  until  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THK    HIDINGt-PLACE    OF    A    FUGITIVE    YORKIST. 

/Elfred,  seeing  his  subjects  fly,  the  enemy  in  the  midst  of  his  country,  and 
no  means  left  either  to  unite  or  solicit  the  few  that  remained  unto  him,  being 
forced  to  give  way  unto  the  rage  of  Fortune  and  comply  with  it,  lays  aside  all 
kingly  state  and  shew  of  being  Prince,  and,  taking  the  disguise  of  an  obscure 
and  common  soldier,  commits  himself  and  his  safety  to — a  concealment  so 
sure,  as  that  neither  subjects  nor  enemies  knowing  what  was  become  of  him, 
his  substance  in  every  place  became  a  common  prey. 

Spelman's  Life  of  jElfrbd  the  Great. 

It  altogether  surpasseth  my  poor  skill,  to  set  down  the 
tears  of  Israel  or  mine  own  sorrow,  in  doing  these  sad 
exequies  for  the  good  Naomi,  or  to  remember  all  the 
rites  of  the  Hebrew's  seven  days  mourning;  wherein 
he  said  his  taper  should  be  kept  burning  day  and  night, 
with  water  and  a  cloth  for  the  departed  spirit  to  return 
and  wash.  When  he  had  sepultured  the  corse,  and 
returned  unto  the  cottage,  we  partook  of  some  food 
together,  and  Israel  enquired  of  my  fortunes  since  we 
had  separated;  whereupon  I  told  him  how  I  knew 
all  too  late  of  his  cruel  persecutions,  for  the  which  I 
had  felt  much  sorrow  and  the  deepest  remorse,  when 


188      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

I  found  that  my  truant  folly  and  thoughtless  delay 
had  brought  such  woes  upon  his  defenceless  head. 
These,  I  added  withal,  had  been  caused  by  my  sud- 
den encounter  with  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford,  then 
Constable  of  Leicester  Castle ;  albeit  he  had  since  left 
the  usurping  Earl  of  Richmond,  and  had  again  be- 
come a  defender  of  the  House  of  York. 

"  Go  to,"  replied  Israel,  with  somewhat  of  mournful 
anger  in  his  voice,  "  this  is  neither  time  nor  place  for 
speaking  of  such  words ;  and,  as  touching  thine  own 
safety,  had  thy  speech  been  heard  by  those  from  whom 
I  have  now  withdrawn  thee,  they  would  not  be  slow  to 
lay  violent  hands  upon  thee  as  an  enemy  to  the  King. 
Tell  me,  then,  of  this  hereafter  in  a  safer  place,  but 
be  silent  upon  it  now  as  the  vei*y  walls  around  us  or 
the  earth  beneath  :  for,  as  the  Wise  ]Man  saith,  '  a  bird 
of  the  air  shall  carry  the  voice,  and  that  which  hath 
wings  shall  tell  the  matter.'  " 

Yielding  me  unto  his  prudent  a:dmonitions,  I  held 
my  peace,  and  he  thereupon  continued  to  tell  me  that 
when  he  was  put  forth  from  his  dwelling,  he  took 
with  him  what  little  of  his  substance  he  inight,  and 
sought  to  pursue  his  wonted  labours  in  another  part 
of  the  realm.  When  the  friends  of  the  House  of 
York  arose  in  arms,  he  found  them  ready  to  traffic 
with  him  ;  but  yet,  although  he  was  courted  by  more 
than  one  of  their  leaders,  he  had  never  sought  to 
appear  as  openly  engaged  with  them,  and  they  also 
held  their    commerce  with   him  in    secret,  lest    the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  189 

name  oF  an  unhallowed  Jew  should  bi'ing  dishonour 
upon  their  cause.  Howbeit,  in  their  neglect  and  his 
own  caution,  did  he  find  his  safety  when  their  hopes 
were  laid  low  by  that  most  fatal  defeat  at  Stoke, 
whereof  I  have  already  spoken  ;  since,  in  his  garb  of 
a  pedlar,  he  passed  un-noted  with  the  boisterous  par- 
tisans of  Harry  Tudor,  Avho  were  met  in  the  hostel 
at  Elveston,  and  so  had  beheld  my  arrival  with  the 
Carrier.  It  would  have  been  but  to  have  exposed 
himself  to  danger  and  contumely,  and  me  to  great 
hazard,  had  he  then  accosted  me,  which  he  would  in 
nowise  risk  ;  whereupon  he  prayed  the  careless  Clerk 
to  draw  me  forth  out  of  that  perilous  place,  and  take 
from  me  such  papers  as  might  witness  against  me. 
This  he  did,  being  Israel's  debtor,  and  so  not  unwilling 
to  do  him  a  benefit;  and  truly  the  Hebrew's  heart 
yearned  over  me,  notwithstanding  my  seeming  deser- 
tion of  him,  and  he  sought  again  to  offer  me  the  best 
of  his  succour  and  counsel. 

Touched  by  this  new  mark  of  his  benevolence  to- 
wards me,  whatever  fear  or  doubt  had  heretofore  with- 
held me  from  declaring  my  birth  unto  him,  I  might 
now  no  longer  conceal  from  so  true  a  friend  the 
real  estate  of  that  unhappy  wight  whom  he  had  so 
readily  aided.  Great,  in  truth,  was  his  wonder,  to 
learn  that  he  whom  he  had  been  the  means  of  pre- 
serving from  death  was  the  son  of  a  King !  yet  may 
I  not  say  that  such  disclosure  made  him  more  kind 
unto  me ;  albeit  when  he  thought  upon  mine  altered 


100      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

fortunes,  livelier  compassion  could  not  be  manifested, 
than  he  shewed  unto  my  lofty  birth  and  present  dis- 
tresses.    For,  in  truth,  even  in  the  very  midst  of  his 
own   sorrows   was  he  (lesirous  of  soothing  mine,  and 
would   not  see  me  cast  down  ;  reminding  me  that  I 
Avas   still  but  young,  and  that  the  ever-rolling  wheel 
of  Fortune  might   soon  raise  me  from  my  present 
abasement.     Yea,    the   better   yet  to  sustain  me  he 
brought  unto  my  memory  divers  examples  set  forth 
in  the  holy  books,  shewing  that  it  hath  ever  been  the 
wondrous  way   of  the  Everlasting  King  of  the  Uni- 
verse, that  he  who  was  now  cast  down  might  hope 
ere  long  to  be  lifted  vip  again;  as  contrariwise  he  who 
was  exalted  unto  the  very  summit  of  greatness  should 
remember,  that  he  might  fall  from  the  steep  rock   of 
pride  into  the  very  depths  of  lowliness.    Thus,  said  he, 
the  holy  David  rose  from  being  a  keeper  of  sheep  to  be 
the  monarch  of  a  great  nation  ;   and  so  did  the  proud 
Nebuchadnezzar  from  being  King  over  mighty  Baby- 
lon, come  to  be  an  outcast  from  man,  and  made  like 
unto  the  beasts  of  the  field.    Therefore  he  again  willed 
me  to  be  of  good  cheer,  even   recalling  unto  my  mind 
how   "  the  Nazarite," — for  so  named   he  the  Divine 
Savioin*  of  Man,  whom  I  adored,  and  whom  he,  albeit 
he  shared  not  in  the  benefits  of  the  Christian  Faith, 
could  not  but  admire, — had  most  wisely  taught  that 
the  meek  spirit  was  blessed,  and  should  verily  possess 
the  earth  ;  that  the  proud  of  heart  should  full  surely 
be  cast  down  ;  and  tliat    whilst  the  ungodly   great 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  191 

should  look  for    a   fall,  the   vu-tuous  of  lowly  mind 
might  hope  to  be  exalted. 

The  suddenness  of  my  meeting  with  the  good  Is- 
rael, the  mournful  duties  wherein  we  had  been  en- 
gaged, and  this  discourse  which  followed  them,  had 
thrown  me  into  no  small  disorder,  and  caused  me  for 
a  while  to  forget  those  letters  taken  from  me  at  the 
hostel,  which  I  had  brought  from  London,  as  com- 
mendations unto  the  favour  of  men  who  had  no  longer 
safety  for  themselves.  This  I  forthwith  told  unto 
the  Jew,  desiring  his  counsel,  and  adding  that  per- 
chance, by  remaining  with  him,  I  might  bring  him 
into  new  hazards,  since  the  missives  of  which  I  spake, 
were  secretly  addressed  unto  divers  persons  most  un- 
friendly to  the  State,  or  at  the  least  unto  him  who 
was  at  the  head  thereof.  Howbeit,  in  this  matter  my 
fears  were  vain,  for,  as  I  afore  said,  the  Hebrew's  care 
for  my  safety  had  specially  charged  the  Clerk  at  the 
hostel  to  take  from  me  any  papers  which  might  put  me 
in  aught  of  danger  ;  and  on  telling  me  of  this  Israel 
of  Castile  restored  unto  me  the  pacquet.  I  now  looked 
upon  it  with  much  sadness,  as  I  recalled  the  friendly 
confidence  wherewith  it  had  been  given,  and  mine  own 
wild  yet  cheering  hopes  on  the  receipt  tliereof.  It 
was  superscribed  with  the  name  of  the  Lord  Lovel, 
upon  the  which  I  could  not  help  noting  tliat  the  glance 
of  the  Hebrew  rested  with  much  curiosity  and  desire, 
as  mine  did  with  unfeigned  sorrow  and  disaj)point- 
ment.     He  then  en(piired  of  me  touching  that  letter. 


102  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

whereto  I  replied  with  all  frankness,  that  I  had  trust- 
ed to  have  delivered  it  unto  the  noble  Lord  himself; 
at  the  same  time  lamenting  the  hapless  defeat  where- 
in, he  and  so  many  brave  peers  had  been  overthrown. 
Unto  this  Israel  replied,  that  I  ought  not  too  rashly 
to  despair,  since,  though  much  had  in  truth  failed,  all 
was  not  lost ;  and  that  it  might  yet  be  mine  to  de- 
liver the  letters  for  Lord  Lovel  into  his  own  hands,  and 
to  converse  with  him  :  if  not  so  hopefully  indeed  as  1 
had  once  looked  for,  yet,  perchance,  as  freely  as  heart 
could  desire.     Then  remembered   I  the  discourse  in 
the  hostel  touching  that  Lord's  supposed  concealment, 
though  still  his  speech  caused  me  to  wonder  much, 
and  to  enquire  of  him  why  he  believed  that  we  might 
yet  meet.     The  Hebrew  answered  unto  this  by  telling 
me  that  he  had  long  been  well  known  imto  the  Lord 
Lovel,  who  had  more  than  once  befriended  him  with 
King  Richard,  and  that  after  his  hasty  retreat  from  the 
fight  at  Stoke,  Israel  had  advised  with  him  touching 
his  hiding-place;  for  he  was  right  glad  to  declare  unto 
me  that  he  had  not  fallen  upon  the  field,  the  report 
of  his  death  and  drowning  being  only  a  cunning  de- 
vice to  turn  aside  pursuit.     Farther  than  this,  too,  he 
told  me  that  he  lay  concealed  not  far  from  that  cottage, 
and  that,  perchance,  in  the  coming  night  we  might 
visit  him  together.     "For  albeit,"  added  he,  "it  is 
written  in  the  laws  of  our  Faith,  that  he  who  mourns 
over  his  dead,  shall  not  go  forth  of  his  house  for  seven 
days,  yet  are  we  as  strangers  in  a  strange  land,  wherein 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  193 

the  laws  of  INIoses  are  set  at  nought,  and  the  Child- 
ren of  the  Covenant  persecuted  for  obeying  them. 
Wherefore  our  Rabbies  do  suffer  us  to  perform  only 
that  which  we  may,  until  the  restoration  of  all  things  ; 
when  we  shall  return  triumphant  luito  Canaan,  when 
the  Temple  shall  be  re-edified  in  all  it's  glory,  and 
when  the  Daily  Sacrifice  shall  be  offered  again." 

We  now  assayed  to  take  some  rest  during  the  brief 
space  which  it  wanted  until  morning,  and  I  continued 
with  the  Jew  in  close  hiding  throughout  the  day 
which  followed;  wherein  he  ceased  not  to  speak  words 
of  comfort  unto  me,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  own  sor- 
row. Yet  did  he  wisely  caution  me  against  hoping 
aught  from  the  Lord  Lovel,  and  even  against  looking 
to  find  him  that  which  he  once  had  been  ;  for,  albeit  he 
said  it  was  true  that  he  still  lived,  yet  was  he  shorn  of 
all  his  greatness,  and  in  such  altered  plight  that  even  a 
peasant  might  have  compassionated  him,  into  so  sor- 
rowful an  estate  had  he  now  fallen.  Sooth  to  say,  he 
was,  as  it  were,  little  better  than  one  dead,  since  he 
had  been  fain  to  avail  him  of  the  rumour  spread 
abroad  that  he  had  been  drowned  in  attempting  to 
swim  his  horse  over  Trent,  whereupon  his  possessions 
had  been  seized,  and  given  unto  others  ;  and  not  to  de- 
ny this  report, — unto  which  it  did  much  concern  him 
that  credence  should  be  given, — he  was  full  cautious 
of  being  seen  by  either  friend  or  foe,  Avho,  out  of  love 
or  malice,  might  make  it  known  that  he  was  yet  in 
life.     Howbeit,  having  encountered   Israel    when   he 

o 


194  THE    I^AST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

first  escaped  from  the  river  wherein  he  was  deemed 
to  have  been  lost,  of  him  alone  he  asked  aid,  and  him 
only  did  he  entrust  with  the  knowledge  of  his  hiding- 
place.  But  not  even  unto  me  would  the  faithful  He- 
brew reveal  the  very  spot  thereof,  until  he  had  first 
learned  from  the  Lord  Lovel  himself  that  such  disclo- 
sure should  not  mislike  him  ;  since  Israel  declared, 
that  as  he  dared  not  unbidden  take  a  stranger  unto 
him  when  he  was  a  powerful  noble,  he  held  it  to  be 
baseness  so  to  deal  with  him  when  he  was  such  no 
longer. 

After  having  thus  spoken,  he  left  me  in  the  cottage 
for  some  hours  alone,  not  disclosing  unto  me  whither 
he  went,  but  desiring  of  me  to  await  his  return  ;  the 
which  was  not  until  night  had  again  overclouded  the 
skies.  But  when  he  at  length  came  back,  he  told  me 
that  I  must  the  same  hour  go  forth  with  him  unto 
the  Lord  Lovel,  who,  from  his  report,  did  desire  to 
behold  me  with  much  impatience ;  whereupon  I  de- 
clared my  readiness  to  follow  him. 

The  night,  like  that  wherein  we  buried  Naomi, 
was  chill  with  wind  and  shower,  and  full  dark  and 
murky,  because  the  moon,  then  far  in  her  wane,  had 
not  yet  arisen ;  which,  as  methought,  did  well  image 
out  the  sudden  and  unlooked-for  blight,  that  had  fallen 
upon  the  cause  and  followers  of  the  House  of  York. 
We  journeyed  across  divers  fields,  wild  and  path- 
less, lying  Northward  from  Elveston,  and  over  the 
fatal  plain    near   East-Stoke,   yet    marked  by  many 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  195 

signs    of  the   late    battle ;    often    making   our    way 
througli   hedges  which  seemed   as  if  lately  broken  ; 
as  though  the  Jew  had  meant  by  this  rugged  and  un- 
certain road,  the  better  to  guard  the  safety  of  him 
whose  life  was  now  in  his  keeping.     At  length  we 
turned  into  a  deep   and  narrow  lane,  leading  down- 
wards with  a  very  steep  descent,  cut,  or  Avorn,  through 
lofty  banks,  overhung  by  ancient  trees,  between  which 
the   night-winds    sighed     with   a    mournful    sound. 
From  the  chillness  of  the  air  in  this  place,  methought 
it  led  to  some  broad  water,  the  noise  whereof  I  pre- 
sently heard;  concerning  which  I   enquired   of  my 
conductor,    who   told  me   that   we   were  now    upon 
the    banks    of  Trent    river,    near    Fiskerton-Ferry, 
and  the  hiding-place  of  him  whom  we  came   to  seek. 
He  added,  moreover,  that  of  all  the  sad  sights  which  I 
had  ever  then  looked  upon,  this  which  he  was  about 
to  shew  me  was  the  saddest.     "  Thou  hast  seen,"  said 
he,  "  greatness  in  sorrow  and  royalty  in  death  ;  but  it 
now  remainelh  for  thee  to  behold  a  proud  noble  and 
stout  soldier  in  the  dark  days  of  his  life,  and,  like  the 
Prophet  Jonah,  a  living  man  plunged  into  the  belly 
of  the  grave." 

As  he  spake  we  approached  unto  the  river,  where 
a  little  ferry-boat  was  lying  fastened  to  the  shore,  the 
which  such  travellers  as  came  that  wild  road,  crossed 
in  to  the  other  side,  and  left  there  at  the  ferry -keeper  s 
abode.  When  we  had  passed  over,  and  had  again 
chained  the  rude  barque  unto  the  bank,  we  landed  in 


196  Tin:  i.ast  of  the  plantagenets. 

another  deep  and  narrow  way  like  unto  that  we  had 
(liiitted,  along  the  which  having  passed  for  some  time 
in  silence,  Israel  suddenly  turned  aside  into  a  hollow- 
still  more  strait  and  steep,  seeming  but  like  a  water- 
course, worn  by  the  wintry  rains  when  they  rushed 
downwards  from  the  high  banks  unto  the  river. 
When  we  had  entered  it,  which  we  did  singly  because 
of  it's  extreme  narrowness, — I  saw  a  faint  spark  of 
light  as  of  a  glow-worm,  seeming  to  be  upon  the 
grass  beneath  me ;  though  as  we  continued  to  descend 
it  grew  larger,  and  flickered  upon  the  wet  leaves 
Avhich  hung  all  around  us.  Then  the  Jew,  silently 
sliding  himself  down  into  an  opening  which  I  now 
first  noted,  beckoned  unto  me  to  do  the  like  ;  where- 
upon I  cautiously  followed  him,  though  not  with  care 
enow,  since  my  feet  slipping  from  me  on  the  wet 
weeds,  I  fell  to  the  bottom  thereof  at  once.  He  turn- 
ed towards  me  to  reprove  my  rash  haste,  but  finding 
me  prostrate,  said  nought  until  he  had  aided  me  to 
rise,  when  in  a  low  voice  he  pointed  out  to  me  one 
seemingly  much  wounded,  in  rich,  though  tattered 
raiment,  sitting  in  a  dreary  cave  by  a  little  fire,  hav- 
ing his  arms  folded  and  his  wan  sad  visage  turned 
upward,  as  if  resigned  to  and  awaiting  the  stroke  of 
death.  As  I  gazed  upon  this  solemn  sight,  I  shud- 
dered and  drew  in  my  breath  with  dread  and  horror  ; 
whilst  the  Jew,  to  cause  me  at  once  to  know  him  on 
whom  I  then  looked,  as  well  as  to  notify  our  presence 
unto  the  sad  inhabitant  of  the  cave,  exclaimed  in  a 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  197 

hollow  tone,  "  Son  of  King  Richard,  behold  the  hap- 
less, but  good  Lord  Lovel !" 

Upon  hearing  his  voice  the  fallen  Noble  started  to 
his  feet  and  seeming  to  grasp  some  weapon  which  lay 
near  him,  cried  out  "  Ha !  discovered  at  last  !  then 
will  I  not  die  alone  \"  but  as  he  looked  earnestly 
towards  those  who  had  so  suddenly  broken  in  upon 
his  hiding-place,  he  recognised  the  features  of  the 
Hebrew,  and  continued  "  What ;  my  faithful  Israel, 
is  it  thou  ?  then  have  I  nought  to  fear ;  though  from 
your  sudden  and  silent  coming  I  had  half  deemed  that 
ye  were  foes,  and  that  the  hour  of  Lovel's  death  was 
indeed  at  hand,  since  the  blood-hounds  of  Lancaster 
had  tracked  him  to  his  den." 

"  Nay,  my  good  Lord,"  answered  the  Hebrew,  "  be 
such  evil  far  from  thee ;  thy  servant  came  hither  but 
to  perform  the  promise  which  erewhile  he  made, 
to  return  before  day-break,  and  bring  with  him  the 
youth  whom  it  was  your  pleasure  to  see :  the  son  of 
a  Royal  Plantagenet !" 

Then  did  the  good  Lord  Lovel  receive  me  with 
much  gladness,  and  as  he  grasped  my  hand  with  kindly 
pressure,  I  felt  a  warm  tear  fall  upon  it  from  his  sor- 
rowful and  aged  eyes.  In  sooth  the  moment  was  full 
sad,  yet  was  it  sweet  unto  me  to  find  myself  thus 
greeted  by  one  who  ever  stood  higli  in  the  favour  of 
King  Richard,  being  his  most  noble  friend  and  valiant 
follower.  I  can  now  remember  nothing  as  to  the 
manner  wherein  I  did  acco!?t  the  Lord  Lovel,  or  give 


198  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

him  thanks  for  his  courtesy  unto  me  :  yet  is  it  of  little 
import,  since  I  have   ever   found   in  all   passages  of 
my  life,  that  when  the  heart  hath  been  most  full,  the 
wit  hath  been  fettered  in  thought,  and  the  speech  en- 
chained in  utterance  ;  and  that  oftentimes,  when  my 
mind  hath  been  most  eloquent,  my  tongue  and  words 
have  rested  perversely  mute.     Howbeit,  though  such 
I  dare  well  say  was  the  truth  at  this  time,  yet  did  the 
hapless  Noble  gladly  overpass  my  lack  of  courtesy  ; 
joying  on  any  terms  to  meet  with  a  true  relique  of 
the  HoAise  of  York,  and  specially  of  that  Sovereign 
whom  he  had  ever  found  so  gracious.     When  I  deli- 
vered into  his  hand  the  letters  from  Master  St.  Leger, 
whereof  I  speedily  bethought  me,  he  read  them  with 
much  care,  sadly   shaking  his  head  as  he  concluded, 
and  saying  that  he  who  had  given  me  such  commen- 
dations into  his  favour,  little  deemed  how  worthless 
they  should  prove ;  for  that  I  might  now  note  but 
all  too  plainly,  that  he  was  in  greater  want  of  protec- 
tion than  even  myself.     He  added  thereto,  that  albeit 
by  the  aid  of  the  good  Israel  he  had  not  yet  wanted 
daily  food,  yet,  by  reason  of  his  advanced  years,  and 
having  been  long  wonted  to  command  the  attendance 
of  many  servitors,  he  felt  him  but  ill  at  ease  in  that 
mournful  solitude. 

After  we  had  much  discoursed  of  these,  and  divers 
other  matters,  he  declared  it  to  be  his  wish  that  T 
would  abide  with  him  for  some  few  days ;  and  when 
I  consented  thereto,  he  testified  much  thankfulness 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  199 

for  what  he  tenned  my   lowly  courtesy.     Howbeit, 
unto  me  it  seemed  that  although  I  was  indeed  of  royal 
birth,  I  stooped  not  much  herein  ;  seeing  that  I  lack- 
ed concealinent   little  less    than    he,   and  knew   not 
where  to  find  a  securer  hiding-place.     In  good  sooth, 
too,  I  had  begun  to  be  somewhat  aweary  of  the  world, 
since  disappointment  had  opened  mine  eyes  unto  it's 
deceits  aiid  sorrows ;  the  which  I  was  no  longer  to 
learn  are  ever  the  portion  of  mortal  man.     The  unsus- 
pended  doom  given  forth  against  him,  what  time   his 
progenitors  were  expulsed  from  the  blessed  land  of 
Eden,  still   presseth  heavily  upon  every  one  that  is 
born  of  woman  ;  and  he   who  depicts  unto  himself 
unclouded  happiness  on   earth,  or  deems  that  he  can 
subdue  the  agitations  and  sudden  changes  of  this  life, 
— might  as  wisely  look   for   substance  in  a  vapour, 
build  his  house  upon  the  sand,  or  seek  to  bridle  in 
the  waves  of  the  ever-rolling  waters. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    fugitive's    ESCAPE    TO    HIS    HOME. 

"  Oh  I  where  are  ye  going,  Lord  Lovel  ? 

My  dearest  tell  to  me  : " 
"  Oh  !  I  am  going  a  far  journey. 

My  own  countrie  to  see." 

ANcrKNT  Ballad  ok  Lord  Lovki,. 

Now  loud  and  chill  blew  the  westlin  winds, 

Sair  beat  the  heavy  shower  ; 
Mirk  grew  the  night  ere  Hardyknute 

Wan  near  his  stately  tower. 
His  tower  that  used  wi'  torches  blaze 

To  shine  sae  far  and  wide, 
Seem'd  now  as  black  as  mourning  weed, — 

Nae  marvel  sair  he  sigh'd. 

Fragment  of  Hardyknute. 

It  was  full  quickly  concluded  in  our  brief  and  scanty 
council,  that  all  things  touching  myself  should  be  ac- 
cording to  the  Lord  Lovel's  desire.  Thereupon  the 
Hebrew  departed  from  us  whiles  it  was  yet  dark, 
promising  to  visit  us  again  after  the  close  of  the  next 
day,  with  such  provisions  as  he  might  best  furnish 
for  our  comfort  and  sustentation ;  but  I  continued  in 
the  cavern  with  the  fugitive  Lord,  and  in  free  and  fa- 
miliar converse  upon  our  past  hopes  and  present  sor- 


THK    LAST    OF    TFIE    r-LANTAGENETS.  201 

rows,  we  whiled  away  the  mournful  though  not  wea- 
risome night.  Right  glad,  indeed,  was  that  noble 
Viscount,  once  more  to  have  near  him  one  with  whom 
he  might  hold  his  wonted  discourse,  and  who  might 
partake  with  him  of  the  occupations  of  that  conceal- 
ment: for,  bred  as  he  had  been  in  stately  castle  and 
camp  of  Avar  ;  he  knew  but  little,  and  could  brook  less, 
how  to  perform  them  for  himself.  In  truth,  I  pitied  him 
for  this,  deeming  it  a  full  sad  matter  to  see  so  great 
a  Noble,  so  entirely  dependent  upon  others  for  almost 
all  which  might  bestow  comfort,  or  calm  his  troubled 
spirit  in  adversity.  At  such  times,  also,  I  often  bless- 
ed mine  own  lowly  rearing  in  the  IMonastery  of  Ely ; 
the  which,  by  ever  constraining  me  to  be  mine  own 
servitor,  had  caused  me,  although  a  King's  son,  to 
know  fewer  wants,  and  to  have  greater  aptness  in  ad- 
ministering unto  them,  than  he  who  was  noAv  my 
companion :  whom,  indeed,  until  this  time,  the  wit- 
less multitude  had  looked  upon  with  much  envy,  as 
the  very  minion  of  good-fortune  and  prosperity. 

In  the  closeness  of  our  intercourse,  but  little  time 
was  wanting  to  cause  our  sudden  ac([uaintance  to 
become  as  firm  and  compacted  a  friendship,  as  might 
well  stand  between  an  aged  man  like  the  Lord  Lovel, 
and  such  a  youth  as  myself.  We  led  a  wearisome 
and  unbroken  life,  marked  only  by  the  brief  nightly 
visits  of  the  faithful  Israel,  Avho  brought  us  such  sup- 
plies as  he  might  best  provide  us  withal,  and  hastily 
departed  again  before  the  day  broke.     The  cavern 


202  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

itself,  too,  was  a  narrow  and  dreary  abode,  though  it's 
cureless  evils  were  lightly  regarded  by  me  when  I  saw 
how  impatiently  they  were  borne  by  him  with  whom 
I  sojourned.      For,  albeit  he  knew  well  what  matter 
of  concern  it  was  that  he  should  still  keep  him  in  close 
hiding,  he  endured  the  restraint  thereof  with  a  rest- 
less and  wayward  spirit.      Whei^  the  summer-storms 
beat  in  upon  us  from  the  mouth  of  our  cave,  and  the 
drenching  rains  made   divers  creeping-things  of  the 
earth  crawl  forth  into  our  view,  then  would  he  shrink 
from  the  sight  thereof  as  one  aghast,  and  appeal  half 
franticly  to  the  God  of  Nature,  if  it  were  fitting  that 
the    noblest  beings  of  His   creation    whom  he   had 
stamped  with  His  own  image,  should  be  prisoned  in 
a  loathsome  vault,  there  to  grovel  with  the  trailing 
earth-worm,  the  newt,  and  the  adder.     At  such  times 
I  have  urged  what  considerations  I  might  to  soothe 
him,  albeit,   my  weak  speech   could  not  bring  back 
unto  contentment  one  whom  calamity  had  so  shrewd- 
ly dealt  withal.  Yet  might  I  well  note  that  he  wished 
me  not  to  think  him  thus  unmanly,  for  that  he  would 
tell  me  how  he  had  never  shrunken  from  toil  or  dan- 
ger either  in  the  march  or  the  battle-field,   when  he 
would  partake  of  the  coarsest  food,  and  sleep  on  the 
hardest   couch    of  the  rudest  soldier    without   com- 
plaint ;  but  to  be  thus   mewed  up  in  a  damp  den, 
without  power  to  resist  his  misery  or  hope  to  cheer  it, 
seemed  unto  him  not  less  dishonourable  than  sorrow- 
ful, and  his  heart  died  within  him  to  endure  it. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  203 

To  look  back  unto  those  days  of  warlike  daring, 
and  to  speak  of  his  own  prowess  therein,  and  the  va- 
lorous acts  of  such  as  aforetime  he  had  fought  withal, 
formed  almost  the  only  matter  of  discourse  wherein 
he  now  seemed  to  take  aught  of  delight.  But  of  these 
he  would  speak  mucli  and  freely ;  and  sometimes 
grew  so  inspirited  in  recounting  them,  that  he  seemed 
almost  to  have  forgotten  his  sorrows.  He  told  me 
how,  some  five  years  past,  he  had  marched  into  Scot- 
land, Avith  King  Edward's  army,  under  my  father, 
who  was  then  Duke  of  Gloucester:  how  he  had 
fought  for  him  at  Bosworth-field,  and  on  his  sad 
death  and  the  defeat  of  the  Yorkists  there,  how  he 
escaped,  and  was  as  now,  living  under  close  hiding, 
until  at  last  he  got  away  beyond  the  seas,  unto  the 
Duchess  of  Burgundy  :  how  he  returned  thence  with 
the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  and  divers  others,  to  support 
Lambert  Simnell  against  Harry  Tudor,  as  one  way 
of  working  their  own  revenge :  and,  finally,  he  told 
me,  in  warlike  speech,  albeit  with  heavy  cheer,  how 
the  late  battle  of  Stoke  was  lost  and  won. 

"  Ye  might  well  mark  the  place  of  fight,  good 
Richard,"  said  he,  "as  ye  came  hither,  lying  a  large 
mile  out  of  Newark  on  the  South,  and  our  host  stood 
on  the  brow  of  the  hill  ;  a  wcll-avised  post  in  truth, 
and  counselled  to  Lord  Lincoln  by  the  brave  Almaine 
leader,  IMartin  Schwartz,  who  left  his  body  on  the 
field  like  many  other  stout  soldiers.  Harry  Tudor's 
battle  was  parted  into  three,  whereof  the  vaward,  letl 


204      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

by  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  liad  the  best  of  his  power ;  and 
this  we  encountered  about  nine  of  the  clock  on  a  fair 
June  morning.  I  wot  well,  that  more  than  once 
Harry  felt  his  crown  shake  upon  his  head ;  but  in 
brief,  God  would  have  it  so,  that  after  some  three 
hours  hard  fighting,  Lincoln  and  Geradine  were  slain, 
beside  four  thousand  stout  hearts  of  English,  Dutch, 
and  Irish,  the  which  was  full  half  of  our  host.  How- 
beit,  even  on  the  losing  side,  may  God  so  speed  me  ! 
as  I  never  looked  upon  a  better  foughten  field ;  for 
those  same  Almaines  battled  and  died  like  very  lions, 
and  the  fierce  Irish,  with  no  other  defence  than  their 
mantles,  and  no  other  arms  than  their  skean-knives 
and  darts,  did  and  dared  more,  than  many  who  were 
clothed  in  gay  armour  of  proof  and  carried  better 
weapons.  But  all  might  not  do  against  an  out-num- 
bering force  and  mounted  men-at-arms  ;  and  so  all 
that  our  power  could  shew  was  how  to  die  bravely 
and  sink  with  our  lost  enterprise.  For  myself,  I  quit- 
ted not  the  field  until  I  saw  the  best  of  my  fellows 
and  followers  lying  dead  around  me,  and  then  put- 
ting spurs  to  Whiterose,  the  brave  steed,  as  if  he  had 
known  his  master's  hazard,  gave  a  noble  bound  from 
the  field,  and  galloped  forwards  over  hill  and  plain 
towards  Trent ;  where  the  hollow  way  to  Fiskerton- 
Ferry  was  running  down  with  blood,  as  full  and  fast 
as  ever  it  did  with  rain  in  the  spring-time.  On  we 
dashed  into  the  river,  swollen  as  it  then  was,  when, 
just  as  we  had  reached  the  steep  banks  on  this  side. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  205 

my  poor  wounded  horse,  throwing  out  all  his  strength 
to  leap  upon  them,  found  his  life  fail  him,  and  reeled 
backwards  dead  into  the  waters  !  I  sank  with  him  as  ye 
may  well  guess,  which  perchance  caused  the  friendly 
report  that  I  was  drowned,  that  hath  since  proved 
much  of  my  safety  ;  but  as  I  speedily  got  quit  of  the 
body,  and  struck  out  to  swim,  I  did  at  last  get  safe  to 
shore,  though  a  sad,  a  wounded,  and  a  proscribed 
fugitive !" 

The  gallant  voice  and  look  with  which  the  noble 
Lord  Lovel  had  spoken  in  the  first  part  of  his  dis- 
course, became  hurried  and  impatient  as  he  spake  of 
his  defeat  and  escape ;  and  all  disconsolate  as  he 
finished  with  the  death  of  his  good  steed.  "  Alas  !  " 
added  he,  "  surely  never  knight  crossed  a  better  barb 
than  that  which  lies  in  yonder  flood ;  and  I  tell  thee, 
young  Plantagenet,  I  have  given  to  his  loss  all  the  sor- 
row a  soldier  can  bestow.  But  why  should  I  mourn 
for  my  charger,  who  am  destined  never  to  couch  lance 
nor  draw  sword  again  ?  for  whom  no  trumpet,  save 
the  last,  will  ever  sound  loud  enough  to  call  me  forth 
from  this  life  of  shame  and  sadness.  What  availeth  it, 
too,  that  I  have  been  of  England's  proud  Baronage,  a 
Knight  of  her  Chivalry  and  a  Councillor  in  her  State, 
since  I  am  now  fettered  in  this  loathsome  den  ?  Oh 
God  !  I  beseech  Thee  take  from  me  life,  or  restore 
me  unto  honour  !" 

Such,  I  do  well  remember  me,  was  the  impatient 
and  murmuring  speech  of  the  Viscount,  whiles  I  re- 


200  TIIK    LAST    Ol'    THIC    PLANTAGKNETS. 

mained  with  him  in  his  retreat  at  Fiskerton-Ferry  ; 
to  be  quit  of  tlie  evils  whereof  he  at  length  said  unto 
me,  that  it  would  now  be  more  meet  to  assay  escaping 
thence,  and  seeking  a  better  hiding-place  elsewhere. 
He  told  me,  moreover,  tliat  there  belonged  unto  Jiim 
an  ancient  family-park  and  dwelling,  nigh  unto  Wit- 
ney in  Oxfordshire,  called  Minster-Lovel,  unto  the 
which  he  would  fain  remove  ;  for,  could  we  reach  unto 
it,  there  we  might  rest  in  greater  security,  beside  being 
sheltered  from  the  continued  storms  which  beat  in  atour 
present  cave  :  since  it  may  be  noted,  that  the  summer 
of  this  year  was  declared  by  divers  persons  to  be  the 
most  troubled  with  tempests,  and  unkindly  to  man, 
that  the  oldest  then  living  had  known  in  our  land. 

Upon  this  I  questioned  of  my  companions,  if  such 
benefits  might  by  any  means  be  won,  what  liindered 
that  we  should  forthwitli  seek  them ;  since   the  lieat 
of  pursuit  after  the  Lord  Lovel  was  now  well  over, 
and  it   seemed  unto  me    that  journeying  by    night 
througli  the  transverse  and  untravelled  roads  which 
we  must  pass, — albeit  the  toil  would  certes  be  great, 
— might  not  have  more   of  danger  than  our  present 
hiding-))lace.     But  on  the  other  hand,  the  Hebrew 
would  in  no  wise  counsel  such  a  course,  for  tliat  he 
affirmed  it  was  rejwrted  that  the   King  had   seized 
upon  all    places,  belonging  unto  such  as  had  taken 
arms  against  him  in  the  late   uprising  in  the  North  : 
added  to  which  Israel  was  somewhat  feeble  from  age, 
and  fearful  either  by  nature  or  througli  much  perse- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  207 

cution.  Yet,  nevertheless,  my  words  did  so  greatly 
inspirit  the  Lord  Lovel,  whose  mind  was  already 
much  disposed  to  depart,  that  at  last  he  would  be 
stayed  no  longer.  For  the  good  Viscount  declared, 
that  even  though  his  enemies  might  have  seized  upon 
his  abode  at  Minster-Lovel,  yet  was  there  attached 
unto  it  a  certain  secret  chamber,  entered  by  a  long 
vaulted  passage  under  the  park,  and  roofed  with  turf 
on  the  outside,  so  that  it  might  never  be  discovered  ; 
the  which  was  known  unto  none  of  his  present  foes. 
Unto  this  retreat  he  doubted  not  that  we  might  safely 
travel,  and  albeit  it  might  not  prove  the  best  dwelling 
that  man  might  desire,  yet  would  it  be  a  bower  of 
bliss  when  compared  with  the  dreary  sepulchre 
wherein  we  were  then  buried. 

Thus  were  we  all  accorded  and  ready  to  depart, 
for  though  the  Jew  was  slow  to  vnidertake  this  enter- 
prise, yet  was  he  full  prompt  and  zealous  in  perform- 
ing it ;  and  yielding  unto  the  Lord  Lovel's  desires, 
proffered  him  such  aid  as  his  small  power  might  pro- 
cure for  us.  All  the  counter-roads  of  England  were 
unto  him  well  known,  and  he  engaged  to  lead  us  in 
those  which  might  be  travelled  most  securely  by  such 
fugitives  as  we :  so  that  all  things  were  soon  disposed 
for  our  departure,  and  in  fourteen  days  from  the  time 
of  my  being  first  conducted  unto  the  sequestered  sol- 
dier, we  set  forth  at  midnight  from  his  retreat  at  Fis- 
kerton-Ferry. 

When  the  noble  Viscount  emerged  from  his  dreary 


208  THE     LAST    OF    THR    PLANTAGENETS. 

cavern  into  the  open  country,  like  the  dead  Lazarus 
coming  forth  of  his  grave,  and  looked  abroad  upon 
the  dark  blue  night-skies  that  were  studded  with  thou- 
sands of  stars,  he  felt  that  it  was  a  full  blessed  thing 
to  breatlie  the  free  air,  and  to  walk  unrestrained  be- 
twixt earth  and  heaven.  I  have  already  noted  that 
his  rich  dress  was  all  despoiled  and  tattered,  and 
therefore  in  lowly  habit  did  he  venture  upon  his  jour- 
ney ;  although  Israel  had  safely  disposed  certain 
chests,  containing  his  arms,  and  some  other  apparel 
which  he  had  provided  for  him, — upon  the  stout 
rounceys*  which  awaited  us  a  convenient  space  distant. 
The  Lord  Lovel  deemed  that  it  would  be  wiser  to  cast 
away  this  furniture,  but  thereto  the  Hebrew  would 
not  consent,  because  he  trusted  unto  it  to  carry  us 
on  our  travel  with  the  less  question;  for  as  he  would 
agree  that  the  Viscount  should  journey  in  the  night 
only, — so  where  he  thought  it  meet  to  stop  during 
the  day,  these  packs  would  furnish  a  fair  excuse  for 
halting,  and  cause  us  to  be  taken  for  chapmen  ;  the 
rather  indeed,  as  he  himself  had  of  late  been  known 
as  the  like. 

I  have  oft-times  wished, — albeit  the  attempt  had 
perchance  proved  a  vain  one, — that  I  had  kept  a  brief 
note  of  this  our  progress  over  divers  cross-roads  of  some 
eighty-four  miles;  but  I  was  at  that  time  all  too  much 
possessed  by  the  cares  and  fears  which   from  hour 

"  Horses  of  burthen. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  209 

to  hour  pressed  upon  us,  and  by  mine  unceasing 
efforts  to  keep  up  the  heart  of  my  noble  companion 
in  his  state  of  debasement,  to  think  of  making  any 
such  record.  Many  were  the  rude  gibes  which  we 
encountered  upon  our  journey,  from  the  rustic  clowns 
whom  we  met  at  early  morn  ;  whereat  Lord  Lovel's 
spirit  would  sometimes  rise  and  his  choler  vent  itself 
in  some  sharp  speech,  the  which  was  ever  too  well- 
framed  and  stately  for  such  as  he  seemed  to  be. 
Whereupon  I  was  full  fain  to  hide  it  by  a  pious  bene- 
diction, or  Latin  text,  as  became  my  religious  habit, 
or  else  by  words  of  mirth ;  which  turned  aside 
their  revilings  into  reverence,  or  made  that  which 
looked  like  hazard  to  end  in  disport  and  laughter. 

So  kept  we  on  our  way  for  some  good  space  of  time, 
until  we  got  vmto  Banbury  in  Oxfordshire,  whereat  the 
Viscount  was  much  rejoiced;  and,  by  our  ceaseless 
travel  in  the  night-season,  we  did  at  length  arrive  at 
Crawley,  a  little  vill  lying  some  mile  distant  from 
Minster-Lovel,  Avhereunto  we  had  been  at  such  pains 
to  reach.  It  was,  as  I  remember,  the  midnight  of 
Friday,  the  3rd  day  of  August,  when  Israel  rode  for- 
ward with  his  goods  unto  a  little  hostel,  which  of  old 
had  borne  the  sign  of  the  Lion  of  Lovel;  but  which, 
since  the  defeat  of  the  Lord  of  that  name,  liad  been 
altered  with  rude  art  into  a  Red  Dragon.  The  Jew 
was  not  unknown  at  this  house,  and,  therefore,  when 
he  knocked  loudly  at  the  door  and  told  his  name,  tlie 
host  forthwith  arose  and  bade  him  welcome,  receiving 

r 


210      THE  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

him  and  his  horse  into  lodging.  Then,  as  it  had  been 
afore  plotted,  my  companion  and  I  came  up  like  two 
benighted  wanderers,  and  with  lowly  speech  prayed 
shelter  for  a  brief  space,  and  to  be  solaced  with  a  stoup 
of  liquor.  Unto  this  the  host  answered  churlishly, 
that  he  well  deemed  that  I  was  a  hedge-priest,  and 
my  companion  little  better  than  a  knave,  who  sought 
but  to  catch  up  spoil  as  we  might,  and  bade  us  go 
look  for  entertainment  elsewhere.  But  upon  this  the 
Jew  interceded  that  we  should  not  be  so  dismissed, 
and  at  his  entreaty  we  were  suffered  to  enter  the 
hostel. 

And  now,  the  good  Lord  Lovel  found  but  little  com- 
fort in  the  tidings  which  awaited  him  here  ;  for  unto 
such  questions  as  the  Hebrew  put  unto  our  host, 
touching  the  then  condition  of  his  ancient  domain,  it 
was  answered,  that  the  King's  soldiers  had  seized 
upon  Minster-Lovel,  and  merrily,  right  merrily  had 
been  living  there,  upon  the  brave  stores  of  paddock 
and  pasture-field,  buttery  and  cellar,  although  they 
had  noAV  abandoned  them  unto  a  meaner  guardian. 
"  I  trow,"  said  he  with  much  discontent  in  his  voice, 
"  that  the  knaves  did  little  else  than  feast  and  quaff; 
for  your  hungry  soldier,  set  to  guard  a  rich  capture, 
is  like  your  beggar  set  upon  horseback,  seeing  that 
the  one  will  ride  to  the  Devil,  and  the  other  will  drink 
himself  blind  with  the  spoil.  And  I  warrant  you,  my 
masters  all,  tliat  this  was  matter  of  some  concern  unto 
me,  seeing  that  they  never  spent  a  cross  at  my  hostel. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  211 

which  was  shrewd  unneighbourlike  as  I  take  it,  and 
clean  against  honesty ;  for  where  should  men  be 
merry  save  under  the  taverner's  bush  ?" 

The  Lord  Lovel  and  myself,  having  contented  our 

host,  now  speedily  went  forth,  and  the  Jew  soon  after 

did  the   like,  under  the  guise    of  looking  unto  his 

horses  and  watching  our  motions.     He  failed  not  to 

bring  with  him  one  of  the  lesser  and  lighter  chests,  and 

we  walked  hastily  onwards  to  IMinster-Lovel.  I  cannot, 

even  yet,   but  well    remember,   the  sorrowful  voice 

and  air  of  the  noble  Lord,  as,  in  his  present  low  estate, 

he  approached  the  fair  turrets  which  were  once  his 

proud  inheritance,  and  which  now  rose  gloomily  and 

dimly  to  his  view  in   the   overclouded   midnight,  and 

the  cold  shower  which  was  falling  around  us.     It  was 

in  truth  no  marvel  that  he  sighed,  when  he  bethought 

him  that  the  mansion,  which,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart 

he  had  exulted  to  call  his  own  from  a   long  line  of 

noble  sires,  had  been  seized  upon  by  his  enemies,  and 

filled  with  boisterous  soldiery,  who  had  destroyed  his 

substance  and  rioted  in  hall  and  bower,  brawling  in 

the   midst  of  the   ruin  which  they  had  made.     He, 

too,  that  had  been  wont  to  enter  his    mansion  richly 

clad,  in  the  broad  face  of  day,  with  all  honour,  and  a 

noble  retinue  ;  now  drew  nigh  xmto  it  in  darkness,  a 

proscribed  fugitive  in  tattered  raiment,  and  followed 

only  by  a  despised  Jew  and  a  powerless  orphan  :  in 

brief,  the  j)lace,  as  the  holy  text  saith,  '  which  knew 

him  once,  then  seemed  to  know  him  no  longer.'     Ne- 


212      THK  LAST  OF  THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

vertheless,  much  as  he  was  dismayed  at  these  things. 
Lord  Lovel  failed  not  rightly  to  trace  out  the  cun- 
ningly-concealed entrance  unto  that  vaulted  passage, 
which  led  into  the  secret  chamber  whereof  he  had 
spoken,  and  which  he  had  so  greatly  desired  to  reach. 
Of  this  place  I  may  liere  note  that  it  was  a  stone 
cell,  like  an  anchor-hold,*  though  somewhat  larger, 
but  built  and  fashioned  for  the  abode  of  one  vowed  to 
live  in  solitary  devotion ;  lighted  from  the  top  by  a 
little  oriel  window,  cunningly  framed  of  part  of  a  more 
spacious  one  in  the  room  above,  though  it  might  not 
be  discovered  even  by  the  closest  search.  At  one  end  a 
narrow  winding  stair  led  to  the  dwelling-house  through 
a  secret  entrance,  and  at  the  other  were  a  fair  altar 
and  a  rood  of  stone,  with  a  figure  rarely  well  carved 
thereon,  and  missals,  and  books  of  Offices  and  bre- 
viaries, lay  scattered  about.     But  notwithstanding  all 


•  Anchor-holds  were  the  dwellings  of  Anchorets,  or  those  re- 
ligious pei'sons  who  never  quitted  their  cells ;  which  custom 
was  introduced  in  certain  Abbeys  in  the  earlier  ages  of  Mo- 
nachism,  when  any  one  of  the  brethren  who  had  made  most 
progress  in  holy  things,  was  shut  up  alone  that  he  might  be 
entirely  resigned  to  their  contemj)lation.  His  cell  was  com- 
monly in,  or  near  the  chuixh,  and  was  placed  so  as  he  could  see 
the  altar  and  join  in  the  service ;  it  was  of  stone,  12  feet 
square  ;  and  had  three  windows  above,  one  looking  towards  the 
choir  for  taking  the  sacrament,  another  for  receiving  food,  and 
a  third  for  light  covered  with  horn  or  glass ;  but  the  door  was 
locked  by  his  Al)bot  or  Bishop,  and  was  very  often  walled  up. 


THE    LAS'lN  OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS.  213 

this  goodly  shew  of  holy  labours,  the  Viscount  con- 
fessed unto  us  that  it  had  been  more  often  used  for 
secret  debate  with  divers  of  his  own  party,  or  as  a  cool 
bower  and  pleasant  retreat  in  the  heat  of  summer, 
wherein  to  quaff  wine  or  indulge  in  light  refection, 
than  for  those  pious  uses  for  which  it  seemed  to  have 
been  framed.  Even  now  there  remained  in  it  good 
store  of  sack  and  Rochelle  wine ;  and  I  might  not 
avoid  noting  unto  myself,  that  in  this  case,  as  well  as 
in  divers  others  which  I  had  seen,  the  guise  of  reli- 
gion covered  designs  and  enjoyments,  having  in  them 
far  more  of  earth  than  of  Iieaven.  Howbeit,  in  this 
time  of  Lord  Lovel's  distress,  his  use  of  the  cell  was 
both  lawful  and  honest ;  and  fervent  were  the  thanks 
which  he  gave  unto  God  and  Our  Lady  for  having 
brought  him  in  safety  thither.  In  the  meantime  Israel 
kindled  a  fire,  and  after  we  had  taken  some  food,  the 
good  Noble,  with  much  gratitude  and  haste,  threw 
himself  upon  the  rude  couch  which  had  been  made 
there  for  the  pious  habitant  of  that  cell ;  and  which, 
hard  and  lowly  as  in  truth  it  was,  he  now  thought  to 
be  a  bed  of  state,  of  much  softness,  and  full  of  luxury. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    DISSOLUTION    OP    FALLEN    GREATNESS AN    INCI- 
DENT   AT    THE    queen's    CORONATION. 


Oh  !  ye  mighty  and  pompous  Lords,  winning  in  the  glory  transitory  of  this 
unstable  life, — and  ye  fierce  and  mighty  Knights,  so  valiant  in  adventurous 
deeds  of  arms;  behold!  behold!  this  mighty  champion,  peerless  of  all  Knight- 
hood, see  now  how  he  lieth  groveling  upon  the  cold  mould,  being  now  so 
feeble  and  faint  that  sometime  was  so  terrible. 

La  Mort  D'Arthur. 


Thus  did  the  noble  fugitive  soon  fall  into  a  heavy 
slumber,  albeit  he  was  laid  upon  so  mean  a  couch ; 
for  his  toil  of  travel  and  long  sojourn  in  that  most 
unhealthful  lodging  at  Fiskerton- Ferry  had  wearied 
and  weakened  his  frame  and  spirits,  and  made  the 
hard  resting-place  of  an  Anchorite  feel  unto  him  like 
a  bed  of  eider-down  or  soft  furs.  Our  faithful  friend 
Israel  now  withdrew  himself  in  silence  back  unto  his 
inn,  though  not  without  some  fear  that  he  might  not 
easily  explorate  his  way  thither ;  and  for  mine  own 
part,  I  folded  me  lightly  in  such  garments  as  we  had 
with  us  in  that  place,  and  stretched  myself  on  the 
ground  by  the  fire :  yet  could  I  not  soon  sleep,  albeit  I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  215 

was  greatly  wearied,  because  of  the  many  sad  medi- 
tations which  flitted  through  my  restless  fancy. 

I  bethought  me,  as  the  virtuous  old  Philosopher 
said  at  his  death,  of  how  close  kin  are  pain  and  plea- 
sure in  this  world.     For  before  me  lay  a  noble  Vis- 
count,  one  who  had  been   a    King's  favourite,   and 
a  most  valiant  soldier, — whose  heart  was  now  so  over- 
whelmed with  his  misfortunes  that  it  seemed  to  have 
sunken   beneath  them  ;    and   yet   even  he    found   a 
most  sweet  rest  from  all  his  toils  and  afflictions ;  his 
cares,  his  fears,  and  his  debasements,  being  all  for- 
gotten in  that  infant-like  slumber,  which  carried  him 
so  swiftly  and  quietly   forward  unto  the  morrow.     I 
pondered,  too,  upon  mine  own  strange  fortunes  ;  upon 
the  lofty,  and,  as  I  now  began  to  regard   them,  the 
groundless,  hopes  of  the  past,  and  how  I  might  best 
provide  me  for  the  future.     For  myself,  I  was  a  fugi- 
tive, perchance  for  manslaughter,  the  thought  whereof 
did   oft-times  greatly  afflict  my  soul ;    although  the 
swift  succession  of  my  toils  and  travels  had,  in  some 
degree,  blunted  my  remembrance  of  it.     The  good 
Israel  of  Castile  would  indeed  befriend  me  so  far  as 
he  might,  but  his  own  safety  was  not  assured,  seeing 
that  he  lived  in  continual  doubt  and  fear  of  persecu- 
tion ;  and  as  touching  him  with  whom  I  was  now  so- 
journing, he  could  do  nought  for  himself;  for  albeit 
I  had  sought  his  aid,  yet  was  he  at  this  time  rather 
dependent  upon  mine.     Whereupon  I  did  conclude, 
that  it  would  be  full  wise  for  me  to  leave  him,  now 


2J()  Till-:    LAST    OK    TIIK    PLANTAGKNETS. 

that  he  was  in  a  safe  and  convenient  hiding-place 
amidst  his  own  tenants,  and  seek  out  some  means  or 
employment  to  advance  myself;  since  I  could  no 
longer  hope  ever  to  be  seated  upon  the  throne  of  my 
royal  father,  both  because  of  the  hatred  borne  unto 
him  and  his  House,  and  for  that  I  knew  not  Avho  was 
my  mother,  and  had  no  proof  of  being  his  son.  Ne- 
vertheless, my  claim  would  questionless  be  strong 
enow  to  call  forth  much  suspicion  and  to  put  me  in 
great  jeopardy,  so  that  methought  as  I  was  now  of 
good  stature  and  could  weild  a  sword,  1  might  be- 
come a  soldier  in  some  foreign  land ;  either  with  the 
Duchess  of  Burgundy,  who  was  well  known  to  be  no 
friend  unto  Harry  Tudor,  or  with  the  Duke  of  Bre- 
tagne,  against  the  French  King  Charles  VIII.,  con- 
cerning whom  divers  Ambassadors  had  of  late  come 
into  England. 

Anon  I  thought  of  joining  me  unto  those  brave  ma- 
riners, who  about  this  time  began  to  launch  their  da- 
ring keels,  almost  whei-ever  they  found  winds  to  waft, 
or  water  to  float  them  :  some  of  whom  had  been  in 
the  service  of  King  Richard,  for  that  they  were  bold 
and  skilled  in  war,  as  well  as  most  adventurous  ship- 
men.  With  them,  I  pondered  on  sailing  to  those  rocks 
of  snow  and  fire  to  be  encountered  in  the  Iceland  voy- 
age, to  the  fair  shores  of  Machin's  Island,  to  the  rich 
coasts  of  the  country  of  Afrike,  and  to  the  fearful 
Cape-Storm. 

All  these,  and  divers  otlier  plots  for  my  future  life. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  217 

glided  swiftly  across  my  restless  fancy  ;  yet  could  I 
decide  upon  nought  but  to  quit  the  Lord  Lovel  with 
what  haste  I  might.  As  I  grew  weary  with  such 
profitless  musings,  the  gloomy  cell,  which  was  now 
only  half-lighted  by  the  decaying  fire-brands,  began 
to  fade  from  my  closing  eyes,  yet  did  my  late  wonted 
vigilance,  and  the  uneasy  posture  wlierein  I  lay,  cause 
me  ever  and  anon  to  start  up,  even  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  forgetful ness  was  stealing  over  my  drowsy 
senses ;  and  until  the  first  rays  of  the  dawn  streamed 
through  the  dim  and  narrow  windows  of  our  cell,  I  had 
enjoyed  but  brief  and  broken  slumbers.  Nevertheless, 
whilst  my  senses  were  thus  suspended,  I  had  a  pas- 
sing sweet  vision  from  the  which  I  did  full  loathly 
awaken ;  wherein,  methought  that  T  was  living  in  a 
most  pleasant  and  quiet  retreat,  with  the  Lady  Bride, 
— such,  indeed,  as  I  did  many  years  after  behold  her, 
when  womanhood  had  clothed  her  in  all  it's  beauties. 
I  wot  well  that  this  was  but  a  shadowy  dream,  though 
it  was  a  marvellous  one,  and  peradventure  was  not 
sent  for  nought ;  but  it  shed  somewhat  of  a  calm  hope 
over  my  soul,  and  hath  oft  supported  and  strengthen- 
ed me  under  the  labours  of  my  life,  albeit  I  have 
since  learned  to  understand  it  in  a  diverse  sense  from 
what  I  did  at  the  time  whereof  I  now  speak. 

But  to  go  forAvard  with  my  story.  When  tlie  Lord 
Lovel  awoke  on  the  morrow,  he  manifested  much  joy 
at  finding  himself  in  so  familiar  and  goodly  a  retreat ; 
and  when  I  disclosed  unto  liim  mine  intent  of  depart- 


218  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

ing  from  him  and  trying  my  fortune  in  some  foreign 
land,  he  declared  that  it  was  likewise  his  purpose  so 
to  escape  as  soon  as  he  might,  and  that  we  would  ei- 
ther go  in  company,  which  should  prove  much  unto 
mine  advantage,  or  that  he  would  shortly  give  me 
letters  unto  such  of  his  intimates  abroad  as  should 
greatly  forward  my  desii'es.  In  thus  much  stead,  did 
he  say,  he  might  still  stand  me;  albeit  at  the  same 
time  he  did  entreat  me  to  remain  with  him  yet  a 
while  longer,  for  that  his  health  was  not  what  it  had 
been  ;  though  that,  he  continued,  was  no  marvel  af- 
ter what  he  had  suffered  in  the  cavern  on  the  banks 
of  Trent.  And  in  sooth,  unto  my  thinking,  his  bodily 
strength  did  seem  then  to  have  more  of  vigour  than 
now  might  be  seen  in  him ;  but  this  I  deemed  might 
perchance  be  but  a  melancholy  fancy  of  mine  own. 
Howbeit,  when  some  two  or  three  days  had  passed 
away,  that  which  had  at  first  been  only  painful  sur- 
mise, grew  into  a  sad  and  solemn  reality ;  and  I  then 
suspected,  what  I  did  afterwards  find  to  be  indeed  the 
truth,  that  his  health  had  failed  him  from  taking  the 
damp  from  that  couch  in  the  cell,  whereon  he  had  so 
hastily  and  incautiously  thrown  him  on  the  night  of 
our  arrival  at  iNIinster-Lovel.  The  good  Viscount 
himself  did  also  become  of  my  belief  in  this  matter, 
for  that  he  said  an  unwonted  tremour  had  invaded  all 
his  limbs,  as  though  he  were  upon  the  point  of  a 
shrewd  ague-fit ;  such  indeed  as  he  had  seldom 
known,  saving  when  he  had  been  assailed  by  severe 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAOENETS.  219 

cold    or    storm    in    iiiglit- watches     or    wet    lodging. 

Thus  did  I  linger  with  the  Lord  Lovel  from  day  to 
day,  in  sad  expectation  of  what  might  chance  unto 
him,  and  leading  a  most  melancholy  and  full  lonely 
life  ;  our  only  change  being  sometimes  to  walk,  with 
fearful  and  silent  steps,  through  his  ancient  park  at 
midnight.  So  fled  that  hapless  Summer,  and  so  passed 
the  fall  of  Autumn,  and  even  Winter  drew  nigh 
in  dark  November,  yet  did  the  Lord  Lovel  still  conti- 
nue as  ill  at  ease  as  before  ;  for,  instead  of  amendirg, 
as  he  trusted,  his  sickness  did  most  fearfully  increase, 
and  he  at  length  declared  that  he  should  not  long 
survive,  unless  some  potent  remedy  might  suddenly 
be  provided  for  his  distemper,  whereof  there  was 
little  hope  in  that  solitary  spot. 

Upon  this  the  faithful  Jew,  who,  as  in  our  former 
hiding-place  at  Fiskerton-Ferry,  did  often  visit  us  in 
the  night  with  supplies,  proffered  to  fetch  from  Ox- 
ford City  or  Reading  Town,  such  medicaments  as 
were  meet  for  the  Viscount's  disorder.  But  this  he 
deemed  would  be  of  no  avail ;  albeit  he  added  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  "if  indeed  INIaster  Harold  Cleghorn,  the 
Chirurgeon  of  King-Street,  near  St.  Peter's  Abbey  in 
Westminster,  knew  how  it  fares  with  me,  perchance 
his  skill  might  devise  the  means  of  restoring  me,  as 
it  oft  hath  done  before  :  but  truly  from  no  other  hand 
may  I  look  for  such  a  blessing." 

Unto  this  the  Hebrew  replied,  "if  that  may  indeed 
be,  to  him  will  I  forthwith   depart ;  for,  old  as  I  am, 


220  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

I  will  not  slirink  from  the  journey  to  save  the  life  of 
my  lord  and  benefactor." 

"Nay,  good  Israel,"  rejoined  I,  "  by  the  faith  of  man 
that  yon  shall  never  do  whilst  I  stand  by :  let  the 
youngest  traveller  take  the  road,  for  it  were  foul  shame 
that  one  so  aged  as  thou  should  set  out  on  so  distant 
a  course,  whilst  I  lingered  slothfully  behind ;  and  so, 
my  Lord,  with  your  fair  leave  and  direction,  I  will 
quit  Minster-Lovel  before  day-break." 

"  Thou  art  a  good  youth,  a  passing  good  youth," 
interrupted  the  Jew,  "  but  this  travel  is  not  meet  for 
thee ;  and,  moreover,  thy  strength  and  stoutness  will 
better  defend  my  Lord  than  mine  aged  and  powerless 
arm,  and  therefore  I  pray  thee  to  remain  w'ith  him 
in  this  place."  But  unto  this  I  answered,  that  I  well 
knew  and  could  endure  the  toil  of  travel,  whilst  only 
care  and  caution  were  required  from  him  who  should 
abide  with  the  Lord  Lovel,  seeing  that  he  lacked  con- 
cealment rather  than  defence ;  for  upon  the  closest 
secresy  all  his  safety  did  depend:  since,  were  he  once 
discovered  by  his  numerous  enemies,  the  weakest 
and  strongest  arm  would  be  alike  unavailing.  Thus 
would  I  in  no  wise  be  staid  from  this  journey,  not 
even  by  the  Viscount  himself,  who  fain  would  have 
ended  our  dispute  by  commanding  that  neither  of  us 
should  go ;  since  it  would  be  peradventure  of  little 
benefit,  and  that  we  might  bring  back  the  healing 
remedies  only  time  enough  to  behold  him  die.  Ne- 
vertheless, I  resoh  ed  tiiat  the  essay  should  be  made. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  221 

and  so,  having  received  the  Lord  Lovel's  directions 
thereupon,  I  forthwith  got  me  to  horse,  and  was 
speedily  once  more  on  the  road  towards  the  great 
City  ;  it  being,  as  I  now  think,  the  night  of  Tuesday, 
the  20th  of  November. 

It  would  be  of  small  import  to  tell  of  the  cares 
which  did  at  this  time  surround  me,  or  of  the  hazards 
which  I  encountered  from  suspicion  or  too  close  en- 
quiry whilst  I  thus  journied ;  and  it  will  be  thought 
enough  if  I  set  down,  that  my  bodily  strength  held 
on  unabated  through  all  the  confinement  and  travel 
which  I  underwent,  and  that  my  spirit  yielded  not 
unto  the  soiTows  that  oppressed  me.  My  journey 
was  performed  in  safety,  but  full  often  was  mine 
heart  made  sad,  and  my  soul  wrathful,  to  hear  of  the 
covetous  exactions  and  bloody  executions  which  had 
followed  upon  the  triumph  of  Harry  Tudor  at  Stoke  ; 
albeit  he  had  been  wont  to  call  my  father  tyrant.  Yet, 
with  all  his  fierceness,  he  had  so  much  of  that  cun- 
ning which  men  deemed  to  be  wondrous  wisdom,  that 
he  affected  to  be  passing  gentle  and  unoppressive, 
even  whilst  cruelly  despoiling  and  destroying  those 
whom  he  called  his  subjects  ;  unto  whom  the  royal 
Richard,  foully  as  he  had  been  maligned,  was  ever 
like  a  benevolent  and  most  noble  Sovereign.  The 
ferocious  and  evil  doings  of  Harry  Tudor,  were  more- 
over dissembled  under  the  guise  of  pious  devotion  ; 
yet,  albeit  he  did  outwardly  seem  anxious  only  to  ho- 
nour the  Lord  of  Hosts  who  had  made  him  a  victor. 


222  THE    LAST    OF    THE    TLANTAGENETS. 

it  might  well  be  seen  that  he  recked  but  little  of  the 
commands  of  Him,  who  would  not  that  blood  should 
be  shed  in  wantonness  or  revenge,  and  who  hath  no 
pleasure  in  the  death  of  a  sinner.  Thus,  whilst  he 
sent  his  proud  and  triumphant  banner,  as  a  thankful 
offering  unto  the  Shrine  of  our  Lady  of  Walsing- 
ham,  he  caused  a  full  strict  inquisition  to  be  made 
after  certain  who  had  spread  the  report  that  his  power 
at  Stoke  had  been  overthrown,  that  he  might  seize 
upon  them  or  pursue  them  even  unto  the  death. 

But  though  the  country  was  thus  disordered,  when 
I  got  me  into  London  I  found  nought  but  stately  rejoic- 
ings ;  since  the  doubts  and  fears  of  the  late  tumults 
had  died  away,  and  men's  minds  were  filled  with  the 
royal  triumphs  which  were  then  in  daily  progress. 
It  was  now  told  unto  me,  how  the  Coronation  of  the 
good  Queen,  Elizabeth  of  York,  was  no  longer  to  be 
delayed  ;  though,  questionless,  the  wily  Harry  had 
been  admonished  therein  by  the  dangers  which  he 
had  of  late  escaped,  for  he  had  at  length  caused  it  to 
be  proclaimed,  that  it  should  be  solemnised  at  the 
Abbey  of  Westminster,  upon  the  Feast  of  St.  Cathe- 
rine then  next  ensuing,  being  Sunday,  the  25th  day 
of  November,  two  days  after  that  whereon  I  again 
entered  the  City.  I  heard,  moreover,  how  the  King 
and  his  Consort  had  travelled  in  stately  journey 
from  the  Court  at  Warwick  unto  London,  where  they 
were  met  by  divers  of  the  Commonalty  thereof,  taken 
from  every  craft,  all  on  horseback,  and  full  well  and 


THE    LAST    OK    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  223 

honourably  beseen  in  one  livery  :  whiles  the  streets 
through  which  Harry  Tudor  rode, — for  he  left  his 
Queen  secretly  at  a  house  without  Bishop's  Gate,  by 
St.  Mary's  Spital, — Avere  fairly  decked,  having  the 
other  Citizens  standing  in  goodly  array  and  order  to 
receive  him.  The  Lady  Elizabeth  then  went  unto 
her  lodging  at  Greenwich,  but  he  continued  unto 
Powle's  at  afternoon-tide,  and  at  the  western  door 
thereof  he  alighted,  being  joined  by  many  Bishops 
and  Priests  all  in  their  robes ;  and  there,  forsooth, 
was  Harry  Tudor  censed  with  the  great  censer  of 
Powle's,  by  an  Angel  that  seemed  to  come  out  of  the 
roof,  whilst  the  quire  sang  a  solemn  anthem  and  "  Te 
Deiim  laudamus,"  for  joy  of  his  late  victory  and  pros- 
perous coming  into  London.  But  of  all  this  proud 
pageantry,  I  saw  nought,  and  in  truth  it  was  unto  me 
food  for  sad  and  bitter  meditation,  excepting  that  I 
rejoiced  for  the  good  Queen  Elizabeth  :  but  my  heart 
sank  within  me  in  the  same  degree  as  those  of  other 
men  beat  higher,  as  I  thought  upon  the  fallen  for- 
tunes of  such  as  had  suffered  defeat  and  ruin  by  the 
late  triumph  over  the  Yorkists,  and  the  measureless 
exultation  and  pride  of  the  Lancaster  victor  and  his 
flatterers  and  followers. 

I  would  fain  have  hied  me  both  for  counsel  and 
lodging  unto  the  house  of  Master  St.  Leger  in  the 
Sanctuary,  but  that  I  feared  the  doing  so  might  again 
draw  suspicion  towards  him,  whom  I  had  already 
placed  in  some  jeopardy  ;  and   I  therefore  rested  me 


224      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

in  the  abode  of  the  good  Chirurgeon,  INIaster  Cleghorn, 
until  he  had  carefully  resolved  upon  the  remedies  pro- 
per for  one  in  the  condition  of  Lord  Lovel.  His 
dwelling  was  a  dark  and  lofty  house  in  King-street, 
looking  imto  the  Abbey,  and  bore  the  sign  of  "  the 
Balm-Tree  of  Judea."  Well  I  wot  that  he  was  a  most 
learned  man  in  physics,  and  the  art  of  curing  wounds ; 
and  nothing  like  many  of  the  JMediciners  of  this  time, 
who  pretended,  by  some  vain  spells  and  drugs,  to  make 
a  wondrous  remedy  which  they  called  "  the  Elixir  of 
Life,"  to  heal  all  diseases.  Others,  too,  would  juggle 
with  metals,  looking  to  turn  the  baser  sorts  into  pure 
gold  by  Alchemy ;  but  though  Master  Cleghorn  was  a 
right  curious  seeker  into  the  hidden  things  of  Nature 
for  the  aid  of  his  art,  and  albeit  his  house  was  filled 
with  divers  marvellous  plants  and  creatures,  yet  was 
he  none  of  those  losel  impostors.  I  have  not  always 
found  that  men  unto  whom  good  offices  have  been 
done,  have  kept  such  lively  remembrance  thereof  as 
this  good  Chirurgeon ;  more  especially  when  their  bene- 
factors have  fallen  into  distress,  and  the  stream  of  their 
bounty  hath  been  dried  up  by  adversity.  But  Master 
Cleghorn  now  shewed  himself  right  grateful  unto  the 
hapless  Lord  from  whom  I  was  a  messenger,  and  told 
me  that  he  would  compound  a  most  choice  remedy, 
which,  if  the  distemper  were  not  too  far  gone,  should 
work  a  swift  cure  upon  him  ;  in  the  mean  space  de- 
siring me  to  lodge  with  him,  and  disport  myself  with 
the  right  royal   pageants  that  were  now  in  progress. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  225 

It  may  well  be  thought  that  I  have  little  liking  to  set 
down  the  stately  ceremonies  of  one,  whom  I  have 
ever  regarded  as  an  usurper,  but  seeing  that  they  ra- 
ther pertained  vmto  the  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  of 
my  House  ;  that  they  do  in  part  belong  unto  my  story ; 
and  that  posterity  may  be  cui-ious  concerning  tliem, — 
I  have  given  this  little  touch  of  them  which  now  fol- 
lowcth. 

On  the  Friday  next  before  St.  Catherine's  day, — 
being  the  morrow  of  that  whereon  I  got  me  unto  Lon- 
don,— the  Queen's  good  Grace,  royally  apparelled 
and  accompanied  by  the  Lady  IMargaret,  Harry  Tu- 
dor's  mother,  and  divers  other  great  persons,  both 
lords  and  ladies,  richly  clothed,  came  forward  unto 
her  Coronation  from  the  Palace  at  Greenwich,  by 
water.  Herein  were  they  attended  by  the  chief  Citi- 
zens of  London,  in  barges  freshly  furnished  with 
silken  banners  and  streamers,  richly  wrought  with 
the  arms  and  devices  of  their  crafts.  In  especial  I 
marked  one  boat  of  most  choice  fancy,  called  "  the 
Bachelors'  Barge,"  passing  all  others,  the  which  had 
a  great  red  dragon  spouting  flames  of  fire  into  the 
Thames ;  whilst  on  every  side  were  trumpets,  cla- 
rions, and  other  minstrelsies,  fitting  unto  the  Queen's 
royal  estate.  So  came  she  from  Greenwich,  and, 
landing  at  the  Tower-wharf,  entered  the  Tower,  where 
Henry  of  Richmond  seemed  to  welcome  her  in  such 
a  manner  as  made  a  very  good  sight  unto  all  present- 

The  next    day,   being  Saturday,  in   the  afternoon 

Q 


22()  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

thereof,  the  Queen  was  again  most  royally  attired  in  a 
kirtle  of  white  cloth-of-gold  of  damask,  and  a  mantle 
of  the  same  furred  with  ermines,  and  fastened  on  her 
breast  with  a  cordon  of  gold  and  silk  with  tassels. 
Her  ftiir  yellow  hair  hung  unadorned  do-vn  upon  her 
back  ;  and  she  had  a  golden  circlet  upon  her  head  full 
richly  garnished   with  precious  stones.     Thus  went 
she  from   her   Chamber  of  Estate,  the  Lady    Cecil 
Wells,  her  sister,  bearing  her  train,  with  great  attend- 
ance of  nobles.     The  litter,   wherein   she  progressed 
from  the  Tower,  and  so  through   the  City  of  London 
unto  Westminster,  was  covered  with  the  same  cloth- 
of-gold  of  damask,  and  had  large  pillows  made  of  the 
like  and  stuffed  with  down,  laid  about  her  to  support 
her.   Over  her  litter  was  borne  a  canopy,  or  pall,  like- 
wise of  golden  cloth,  having  four  gilded  staves  ever 
supported  by  as  many  Knights ;  there  being  twelve 
appointed  to  bear  them  in  due  order  unto  W^estmin- 
ster.     Then  came  her  Grace's  horse  of  estate,  led  by 
the  Master  thereof;  with  her  six  henchmen,  upon  fair 
white  palfreys  harnessed  with  red  and  white  cloth- 
of-gold,  richly  embroidered  with  suns  and  white  roses. 
Next  them  followed  two  chariots  covered  with  the 
like  and  set  upon  horses,  in  the  first  whereof  sat  the 
Duchess  of  Bedford,  and  the  Lady  Cecil  Wells,  the 
Queen's  sisters;  and  in  the  second,  the  Duchess  of 
Suffolk,  and  the  Countess  of  Oxford,  and  Elizabeth's 
other  sister,  the  Ducliess  of  Norfolk :  but  the  Lady 
Bride  I  saw  not  on  this  day.     The  goodly  train  was 


THK    LAST    OF    THK    PKANTAGENKTS.  227 

closed  by  tlie  Queen's  Ladies  and  Gentlewomen,  ac- 
cording to  their  degree,  some  riding  in  chariots  and 
others  on  white  palfreys,  all  most  richly  arrayed  in 
cloth-of-gold,  robes  of  crimson  velvet,  and  gold  chains. 

I  may  not  in  ordinary  compass,  tell  how  the  streets 
through  which  she  should  pass,  were  hung  with  cloths 
of  tapestry  and  arras,  or  how  West-Cheap  was  be- 
decked with  silks  and  gold  velvets :  how  the  Crafts 
of  London,  in  their  liveries,  stood  all  along  tlie  way 
from  the  Tower  unto  Powle's ;  with  a  marvellous 
sight  of  people  in  the  streets,  houses,  and  windows : 
how  her  Grace  was  met  in  divers  parts  of  the  City 
by  fair  children,  some  being  arrayed  like  unto  angels, 
and  others  like  virgins,  who  sang  sweet  songs  as  she 
passed  by :  or  how  richly  were  clad  the  Knights  and 
Nobles  who  rode  with  her  in  that  stately  progress  ; — 
but  I  will  rather  at  once  pass  away  unto  her  Corona- 
tion upon  the  morrow. 

Full  early  upon  the  morn  of  the  holy  day  she  came 
forth  of  Westminster  Hall,  liavino-  lodjjed  the  nieht 
before  in  the  Palace  thereof, — upon  a  fair  and  high 
scaffold  covered  with  new  ray-cloth  of  purple,  where- 
on she  might  well  be  seen  of  all  present.  This  reached 
from  the  gate  of  the  said  Hall,  unto  a  stage  in  St. 
Peter's  Abbey,  where  she  was  to  be  crowned ;  beside 
which  there  were  sundry  other  scaffolds  around  it, 
hung  with  pictures,  tapestry,  and  arras,  for  such  as 
were  above  the  common  sort  to  behold  the  procession. 
In  especial  I  marked  one  goodly  little  gallery,  set  up 


228  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

about  midway,  well  bedecked  with  cloth-of-gold,  and 
covered  witli  a  rich  canopy,  wherein  were  seated 
divers  ladies,  who  seemed  of  such  great  estate,  that  I 
marvelled  much  that  they  were  not  in  high  place  in 
the  procession.  One  of  the  foremost  was  a  most 
lovely  and  gentle  child  of  noble  mien  and  stature, 
though,  perchance,  not  passing  some  seven  years  of 
age.  She  was  in  a  fair  glistering  robe  of  silver-tissue, 
and  had  mild  and  clear  eyes  of  bright  blue,  and  hair 
of  paly  gold ;  methought  much  more  beauteous  than 
the  Queen's,  unto  whom  she  bore  a  wondrous  resem- 
blance. As  I  stood  in  the  crowd  near  this  spot,  I  de- 
manded of  some  that  were  about  me  who  those  ladies 
might  be ;  whereunto  one  answered  that  they  were 
the  Queen's  mother  and  younger  sisters,  from  the 
Abbey  of  Bermondsey,  whom  the  King  of  his  grace 
had  permitted  to  behold  her  Coronation,  though  he 
would  in  no  wise  have  them  to  take  any  part  in  the 
same ;  and  that  she  who  sat  in  the  front  was  the  Lady 
Bride,  who  should  become  a  nun  when  she  was  of 
age  to  be  professad. 

Alethought,  before  I  knew  this,  that  there  was  some 
secret  charm  which  as  it  were  drew  me  unto  that  fair 
one,  and  riveted  my  sight  upon  her,  the  which  was 
now  fully  explained ;  whilst  my  mind  did  at  once  re- 
call every  thing  that  Master  St.  Leger  and  Sir  Gilbert 
De  Mountford  had  said  touching  her  and  myself,  and 
mine  own  ardent  desires  towards  her.  Now  I  saw 
that  she  was  even  more  beauteous  than  my  fancy  had 


THE    L,AST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  22i) 

pictured  her,  and,  in  truth,  the  fairest  of  her  family  ; 
and  thereupon  I  pressed  as  nigh  as  I  might  unto  the 
scaffold  whereon  she  sat,  the  better  to  gaze  upon  her 
features :  though  mine  heart  sank  within  rae  as  I 
thought  upon  the  hopeless  distance  which  adverse 
fortune  had  cast  between  us,  albeit  I  was  her  near 
kinsman,  and  of  birth  not  less  royal. 

I  will  here  say  nothing  of  the  gallant  procession 
unto  the  Abbey,  of  the  Esquires,  Knights,  Peers,  and 
Heralds ;  of  the  Prelates  in  their  copes,  nor  the  monks 
of  Westminster  in  their  albs;  of  the  golden  orb, 
crowns,  and  sceptres,  borne  by  the  Nobles,  nor  of  the 
princely  habits  of  all  ; — since  they  who  list  to  read  of 
them  shall  find  them  chronicled  in  story,  and  pictured 
in  divers  books  of  the  Heralds.  After  all  these  had 
passed  in  stately  march  before  us,  came  the  Queen  in 
a  kirtle  and  mantle  of  purple  velvet,  broidered  with 
gold  and  furred  with  ermines  ;  having  a  circlet  of 
gold  and  rich  gems  upon  her  hair,  and  her  train  borne 
by  the  Lady  Cecil.  Next  her  followed  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford  and  others,  in  mantles  and  surcoats  of  scar- 
let velvet,  furred  and  powdered,  with  golden  circlets 
on  their  heads ;  but  these  had  not  well  gone  by,  when 
there  was  so  mighty  a  rush  of  the  crowd  behind,  in- 
ordinately pressing  to  cut  away  the  ray-cloth  whereon 
the  Queen  had  walked,  as  memorials  of  that  stately 
pageant,  that  divers  persons  were  overthrown  and 
even  trampled  to  death  in  the  presence,  and  the  order 


230  THK    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGKNETS. 

of  the  procession  was  all  broken  and  distroubled.* 
Nor  was  this  the  worst,  for  the  crowd  pressed  for- 
ward with  such  force,  as  to  unsettle,  and  even  to  break 
down,  certain  of  the  pillars  which  supported  that  scaf- 
fold wherein  were  seated  the  Queen's  mother  and  the 
Lady  Bride  ;  causing  some  to  utter  a  cry  of  fear  as  the 
gallery  trembled  beneath  them.  Then  did  most  of 
the  press  quickly  retreat,  as  fearing  that  it  should 
suddenly  fall  upon  them ;  but  others,  whereof  I  was 
one,  hastily  pressed  forward  and  ascended  the  scaf- 
fold to  rescue  those  noble  ladies  from  their  most  peril- 
ous condition.  As  we  mounted  thereon  it  shook 
fearfully  beneath  us,  and,  peradventure  from  the  in- 
creased weight,  a  part  at  once  gave  way  and  fell,  close 
unto  that  whereto  I  had  rushed  to  save  the  Lady 
Bride  ;  and  even  the  remainder  was  shaking  upon  it's 
frail  supporters.  The  brave  and  noble  child  had  ut- 
tered no  sound  of  fear,  though  her  cheek  was  some- 
what pale  when  I  approached  her ;  and  only  saying 
unto  her  "  Lady,  trust  yourself  with  me,  I  am  of 
gentle  blood,  and  will  pledge  my  life  for  your  safety," 


*  The  reader  will  remember  that  this  circumstance  is  also 
mentioned  in  a  contemporary  record  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  Co- 
ronation preserved  in  manuscrij)t  in  the  Cottonian  Library ; 
and  printed  in  Leland's  Collectanea,  and  Ives'  Select  Papers 
relating  to  English  Antiquities.  Several  other  parts  of  the 
above  description  are  also  supported  by  the  same  authorities. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  231 

— I  took  hev  forthwith  in  mine  arms,  and  sprang  with 
her  from  the  gallery  as  the  last  of  it  fell ! 

I  had  thought  full  lightly  of  the  danger  whereunto 
I  had  exposed  myself,  for  that  I  would  Aviilingly  have 
bought  the  proud  joy  of  bearing  such  a  burthen  with 
far  greater  peril ;  but  the  shock  had  taken  away  the 
senses  of  the  Lady  Bride,  and  when  we  reached  the 
ground  she  had  swooned  in  mine  arms.  Howbeit,  as 
I  still  supported  her,  and  did  vvhat  I  might  to  restore 
her  fainted  spirits,  certain  of  the  guard  and  others 
came  up,  and  roughly  demanded  of  me  how  I  pre- 
sumed to  come  into  such  presence  as  her's ;  where- 
unto I  replied  that  I  had  done  it  by  right  of  cou- 
rage, for  that  they  had  given  back  even  before  the 
scaffold  fell,  and  also  by  right  of  rank,  for  that  I  was 
of  much  better  blood  than  such  base  grooms  as  they  : 
adding,  withal,  that  I  meant  to  bear  her  unto  her  royal 
mother,  and  so  bade  them  stand  back  and  let  me  pass 
onward.  But  this  they  would  in  no  wise  hear  of,  and 
whilst  some  took  her  from  me  and  carried  her  unto 
the  Palace,  others, — because  my  habit  was  but  coarse 
and  mean  like  one  of  low  estate, — flouted  and  reviled 
me  with  much  foul  contumely  ;  telling  me  that  1  was 
already  well  rewarded  in  not  being  sent  unto  the 
guard-house  for  my  presumption,  albeit  I  might  yet 
have  farther  guerdon,  if  I  listed  to  go  me  down  unto 
the  King's  kitchen. 

Hereupon,  with  much  anger  and  scorn  in  my  face 
and  speech,  I   ipiilted  the  crowd  in   that  place,  and 


232  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENET8. 

hastily  returned  again  unto  Master  Cleghorn's ;  not 
coveting  to  behold  any  more  of  those  flaunting  pa- 
geants, or  the  costly  banquet  which  followed  them. 
It  was  small  merit,  I  trow,  for  Harry  Tudor  to  ex- 
ceed his  predecessors  in  wanton  feasting,  yet  was  it 
made  matter  of  much  admiration,  that  the  Queen's 
courses  had  Feisaunts-royal,  swans,  cranes,  pikes, 
and  peacocks  ;  with  a  Subtlety,  having  ballads  writ- 
ten therein,  and  castles  of  jelly  made  in  temple-wise. 
It  was  moreover  said,  how  that  the  Abbey  of  West- 
minster was  pourtrayed  there  unto  the  very  life,  being 
beset  with  divers  beasts  and  birds,  and  fighting-men 
on  horseback  and  on  foot,  some  dancing  with  ladies, 
and  others  tilting  with  sharp  spears  as  in  a  tourna- 
ment ;  all  being  made  of  spice-plate  painted  and  gilt. 
Yet  of  this  I  neither  saw  nor  regarded  aught,  but 
early  in  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  after  my  last 
coming  unto  London,  J  took  my  departure  therefrom 
with  the  good  Chirurgeon's  medicines  for  the  Lord 
Lovel.  By  the  second  night  after,  my  travel  was 
ended,  and  it  should  have  been  even  sooner  done,  but 
that  I  was  full  cautious  of  journeying  through  the 
parts  lying  nearest  to  Minster-Lovel  in  the  broad  face 
of  day  ;  whereupon  I  purposely  tarried  until  after 
sunset,  at  a  hostel  on  the  road-side  some  twelve  miles 
distant.  But  when  I  again  got  me  on  horseback,  I 
rode  forward  at  a  great  pace,  and  within  two  hours 
saw  myself  at  the  end  of  my  journey.  I  now  hastily 
bestowed  my  horse  at  his  own  inn,  being  full  impa- 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  233 

tient  to  declare  unto  the  Lord  Lovel  how  I  had  per- 
formed his  charge,  and  to  impart  unto  him  the  heal- 
ing drugs  which  had  been  compounded  for  his  dis- 
temper by  IMaster  Cleghorn. 

As  I  drew  nigh  unto  the  secret  cell,  and  wound 
through  those  hidden  passages,  which  led  unto  the 
sad  retreat  of  fallen  greatness, — albeit  until  now  I 
had  looked  to  find  tlierein  Israel  and  the  sick  Noble 
as  I  had  left  them  ; — I  felt  a  strange  and  sudden  mis- 
giving overcloud  my  mind,  in  truth  I  wot  not  why, 
and  I  did  almost  fear  to  learn  that  their  hiding-place 
had  been  discovered,  and  that  I  should  hear  in  it  the 
brawling  voices  of  Harry  Tudor's  soldiers.  Howbeit, 
this  dread  was  al^ated  by  the  deep  silence  which  pre- 
vailed therein,  and  shewn  to  be  only  the  sickly  fear  of 
an  over-anxious  spirit.  But  even  whilst  I  felt  my 
doubts  to  be  all  groundless,  the  next  moment  that  very 
stillness  seemed  vuito  me  to  be  full  of  alarm  ;  for 
I  half  deemed  that  some  foemen  might  be  hidden 
within  the  cell,  and  that  such  unnatural  silence  might 
be  only  the  surer  to  ensnare  any  one  who  approached 
that  retreat.  Nevertheless  I  still  went  forward,  and 
upon  approaching  the  very  entrance  of  the  chamber, 
I  heard  a  faint  and  broken  voice  exclaiming,  as  if  in 
the  devotion  of  the  last  hours  of  life,  "  De  jjroj'iindis 
clamaui,  ad  Tc,  Dominc,  exaudi  oocem  meam  :  Fiant 
aures  luce  intendentes  in  vocem  deprecationis  mc(e !" 
whereupon  I  hastily  pressed  forward,  and  came  sud- 
denly in  sight  of  a  new  scene  of  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE    DEATH    OF    A    NOBLE    SOLDIER. 


Tell  me. 


How  have  you  pass'd  the  time  you  wanted  victuals  ? 

Very  hardly. 

Davenport's  King  John  and  Matilda. 

The  illustrious  warriors  who  found  themselves  wasting  by  some  lingering 
illness,  were  not  always  content  barely  to  excuse  their  fate  :  they  often  availed 
themselves  of  the  few  moments  that  were  yet  remaining,  to  shake  off  life  by  a 

way  more  violent  or  glorious But  if  none  of  these  reliefs  were  afforded,  and 

especially  when  Christianity  had  banished  these  cruel  practices,  the  heroes  con- 
soled themselves  at  least  by  putting  on  complete  armour  as  soon  as  they  found 
their  end  approaching  ;  thus  making,  as  it  were,  a  solenui  protest  against  the 
kind  of  death  to  which  they  were  forced  involuntarily  to  submit. 

Mallet's  Northern  Antiquities. 

When  that  I  had  thus  re-entered  the  cell^  I  saw 
none  of  the  foes  which  my  troubled  fancy  had  looked 
for  in  that  place,  the  Viscount  being  there  alone,  and 
seated  on  the  very  same  spot  whereon  I  had  last  seen 
him  ;  but  although  I  looked  anxiously  round  for  the 
Hebrew,  yet  was  Israel  no  where  to  be  seen.  The 
chamber  was  now  full  dark,  saving  the  red  flickering 
of  a    few    dying    fire-brands   near    the    Lord    Lovel, 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  235 

which  cast  their  light  upon  a  face  in  which  the  de- 
caying spark  of  life  seemed  as  near  it's  departure,  and 
threw  into  most  mournful  shadow  his  ghastly  looks, 
whereon  distress,  famine,  and  death,  seemed  to  have 
wrought  w  ild  work  since  I  had  gazed  on  him  before. 
His  eyes  had  now  lost  all  their  martial  brightness,  and 
were  glazed  and  dim,  and  there  was  that  keen  sharp- 
ness in  his  features  and  limbs  which  is  the  forerunner 
of  the  last  hour ;  but  though  his  voice  was  weak  and 
hollow,  and  his  utterance  slow,  yet  was  there  now 
about  him  a  holy  calmness  and  piety,  which  seemed 
to  shew  that  he  had  learned  better  how  to  live  or 
die  within  the  past  week,  than  in  all  the  years  of  his 
life  beside. 

When  I  drew  so  near  him  as  that  he  might  well 
note  that  some  one  approached,  he  said,  "  Ha  !  who 
cometh  there  ? — But  it  skills  not  now,  for  a  dying- 
man  fears  no  earthly  enemies ;  and  blessed  be  God 
who  hath  given  me  again  to  behold  the  face  of  a  fel- 
low-creature !  What !  is  it  indeed  thyself,  my  kind 
Plantagenet?" 

His  altered  speech,  his  changed  countenance,  and 
his  wasted  form,  had  so  riveted  my  looks  upon  him, 
that  sorrow  and  wonder  had  partly  enchained  my 
tongue,  and  I  could  not  on  the  instant  make  re- 
ply ;  but,  at  length  somewhat  recovering,  1  said, — 
"  Aye,  my  good  Lord,  it  is  indeed  your  poor  friend, 
Plantagenet ;  who,  God  be  praised  !  findeth  you  still 
living  and  in    safety  ;    and  hatl\   brought  with   him 


230      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

such  healing  medicines  from  the  good  Chirurgeon  as 
shall  work  a  speedy  cure  upon  your  fainting  frame." 

"  Nay,  good  Richard,"  answered  the  Viscount,  full 
sadly  smiling  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  "that  may 
not  be ; — thy  kind  ministration  cometh  all  too  late^ 
since  I  wot  that  physic  is  but  for  the  quick,  and  I  do 
already  deem  myself  as  one  of  the  dead  !" 

I  heard  him  with  much  sadness,  though  with  little 
amaze  after  having  beheld  him,  yet,  being  willing  to 
support  his  hopes,  I  replied,  "  Not  so,  my  noble  Lord, 
since  I  can  well  trust  that  there  yet  remain  for  you 
many  years  of  life  and  honour." 

"I  pray  God,  Plantagenet,"  returned  he,  "that 
thine  own  hopes,  whatever  they  be,  may  have  better 
foundation  and  fulfilment,  than  they  ever  can  which 
thy  kindly  spirit  now  breathes  for  one,  on  whom  the 
cold  grasp  of  Death  is  already  laid,  and  whose  last 
hour  is  close  at  hand." 

"  Oh !  say  not  so,  mine  honoured  Lord,"  replied  I, 
bending  over  him  and  taking  his  thin  wasted  hand, 
whereon  were  hanging  the  clammy  dews  of  Death, — 
"  say  not  so,  since  I  have  brought  with  me  certain 
most  potent  and  reviving  cordials,  compounded  by 
your  approved  and  faithful  Chirurgeon,  which  shall 
full  quickly  bring  you  back  unto  life." 

"  Alas  !"  responded  he,  faintly,  "  the  physician's 
skill  Cometh  all  too  late ;  since  I  may  now  say  with 
holy  Job,  '  .spiritus  mens  attenuubiiur ,  dies  mihi  brevia- 
buntur,  et  solum  mihi  superesf  sepulchrmn  :  my  breath 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENKTS.  237 

is  diminished,  my  days  are  shortened,  and  the  grave 
alone  remaineth  unto  me. — That  aid,  Avhich,  timely 
supplied,  perchance  might  have  restored  my  strength, 
will  do  but  little  for  me  now. — Let  the  will  of  God  be 
done  ! — yet  have  I  thought,  Plantagenet,  that  if  thou 
hadst  not  left  me,  or  if  any  of  our  Christian  Faith  had 
been  near  me,  peradveuture  I  had  even  at  this  time 
had  hope  of  life :  but  as  it  is,  abandoned  by  the  Jew, 
and " 

"  Holy  Saints  !"  exclaimed  I  in  terror  and  wonder, 
for  now  mine  amazement  had  suddenly  increased 
much  more  than  before,  "  what  mean  you,  my  good 
Lord  ?  hath  Israel  indeed  deserted  you,  or  done  aught 
to  call  forth  your  anger.''" 

"  That,"  replied  the  Viscount,  "  I  may  not  truly 
aver,  seeing  that  I  am  now  at  the  point  to  die,  and 
have  long  known  him  faithful ;  so  that  perchance  I 
should  rather  lament  for  some  calamity  having  befal- 
len him  through  his  fidelity  unto  me.  Yet  may  I  tell 
thee,  good  Richard,  that  since  the  night  of  thy  depar- 
ture hath  he  never  returned  hither  !" 

In  very  sooth,  I  could  scarcely  think  that  mine  ears 
heard  aright  as  the  Lord  Lovel  thus  spake,  or  when  he 
continvied,  in  such  terms  as  moved  both  mine  heart  and 
eyes  to  pity  him,  to  relate  unto  me  how  he  had  been 
left  wholly  without  sustenance  throughout  five  of  the 
days  which  had  passed  away  since  I  left  him  !  I  then 
hastened  to  take  from  my  pouch  some  food  which 
I  provided  at  the    hostel   where  I  last  stopped,  and 


238  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS. 

placino-  it  before  the  Viscount  entreated  him  to  eat 
thereof;  telling  him  that  I  would  eftsoons  go  forth 
for  more,  and  to  enquire  what  I  might  touching 
Israel  of  Castile.  But  unto  this  the  Lord  Lovel 
replied  with  a  sad  smile,  declaring  that  he  would  no 
more  taste  of  food  on  earth,  having  taken  his  last 
morsel  as  the  Blessed  Viaticum,  which  should  pre- 
pare him  for  his  departure  from  the  flesh  :  he  added, 
moreover,  that  he  would  not  have  me  quit  him  again, 
for  that  he  had  much  desired  to  see  me  ere  his  death, 
and  he  would  fain  speak  unto  me  whilst  utterance 
was  left  him. 

He  then  related  unto  me,  albeit  with  much  difficulty 
of  speech,  how  that,  when  his  food  was  nigh  spent, 
and,  after  long  waiting,  he  found  that  Israel  returned 
not  unto  him  with  more  at  his  wonted  hour, — he  began, 
in  impatient  mood,  to  lament  that  he  had  entrusted 
his  life  to  the  keeping  of  an  infidel  Jew  :  since  he  did 
well  believe  that  he  had  wantonly  left  him  to  die. 
His  infirmities  had  also  much  increased  from  his  sick- 
ness, so  that  he  might  in  no  wise  have  gone  forth  him- 
self; and,  as  his  little  store  of  provision  lessened,  he 
looked  forward  unto  a  lingering  death,  without  hu- 
man creature  near  him  to  aid  him  in  his  last  hours. 
Deeming  that  he  had  now  no  hope  of  escape  from  such 
sad  fate,  he  bethought  him  of  addressing  himself  unto 
the  holy  duties  proper  unto  that  solemn  time ;  there- 
upon taking  up  one  of  those  tomes,  which,  as  I  have 
noted,  lay  scattered  about  the  cell,  thinking  it  to  be 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    I'LANTAGENETS.  239 

some  pious  Hours  or  Offices,  or  other  book  of  Chris- 
tian prayers.  But  it  was,  in  truth,  a  full  devout  and 
ghostly  Treatise  of  the  Imilation  and  FuUuwing  of  the 
Blessed  Life  of  Our  mercifiil  Saviour  Christ  Jesus,  and 
of  the  Co)itemning  of  the  World  :  the  wliich  godly 
book  was  written  first  in  Latin  by  that  most  learned 
and  christian  doctor,  Johannes  Gersenus,  Abbot  of  the 
Benedictine  Monastery  of  St.  Stephen  at  VerceiL 
albeit  it  hath  been  falsely  attributed  unto  other  au- 
thors.* The  Lord  Lovel  now  remembered  him  that 
it  had  been  done  into  English  at  his  command,  by 
Master  Bernard  de  Chadlington,  sometime  his  Chap- 
lain, and  Vicar  of  St.  Kenelm's  Church  at  Minster- 
Lovel ;  who  was  greatly  enamoured  of  that  divine 
treatise. 

In  the  time  of  the  Viscount's  prosperity  he  little 
recked  for  aught  of  book-lore,  since  I  wot  that  both 


*  It  will  doubtless  be  remembered  that  the  very  celebrated 
Imitation  of  Christy  has  been  assigned  to  Thomas  a  Kemjjis,  John 
Cierson,  Chancellor  of  Paris  University,  and  the  Abbot  Gersen 
mentioned  above ;  beside  some  other  authors  of  far  less  pro- 
babilit}''.  For  several  reasons,  perhajjs  Gersen  may  be  most 
safely  regarded  as  the  real  writer  of  the  treatise  ;  but  his  claim 
being  strenuously  suj)ported  by  the  Benedictine  monks,  against 
the  advocates  of  Kempis,  who  was  of  the  Order  of  St.  Augus- 
tine,— was  probably  the  reason  for  the  assertion  in  the  text, 
Richard  Plantagenet  having  been  educated  in  the  Benedictine 
monastery  at  Ely.  The  passage  subsequently  cited  from  the 
Imitation  of  C/irisf  will  be  found  in  Book  I.  Chap.  xxv. 


240  THK    LAST    OK    TIIK    PI.ANTAGENRTS. 

his  heart  and  his  treasure  were  in   camp  and  Court; 
and  therefore  the  pious  tome  of  the  Abbot  Gersenus 
was  cast  aside  for  sword  or  charger,  hawk  or  hound, 
or,  in  brief,  for  aught  of  worldly  pastime  or  employ- 
ment.    But  in  the  day  of  his  adversity  and  hiding, 
long  after  the  good  Chaplain  had  gone  unto  his  rest, 
when  his  labours  were  all  forgotten,  lo!  his  little  book 
came  forth  in   wondrous   wise  to  awaken  the  soul  of 
him  for  whom  it  was  first  penned,  even  at  the  eleventh 
hour.     As  the  Lord  Lovel  sate  in  that  lonely   cell, 
thinking  upon   death,  and  I   ween   well  nigh  spent 
with  famine,  he  takes  me  up  this  holy  treatise  deem- 
ing it  to  be  a  missal ;  and,  presently  opening  it,  he 
lights   upon  these  blessed  words,  which    seemed   to 
speak  unto  him  with  the  voice  of  an  angel. 

"  O  !   if  M-e  myght  contynue  in  thys  lyfe  wythoute 
bodyly  refecyon,  as  eatyng  and  drynkyng,  sleepyng, 
or  any  other  corporeal  wants ;    and   take  heede   only 
unto  holy  medytacyons,   and  ghostlye  feedyng    and 
refreshyng  of  our  souls  ;  then  shoulde  we  be  muche 
more  happye,  than  we  be  now,  in  serving  and  attend- 
yng  more  for  bodyly  good  than   spyrytual  profyte. 
When  man  once  cometh   unto  thys  perfecyon,  then 
seeketh  he  consolacyon  of  no  creature ;  then  begyn- 
neth  he   to  have  a  spyrytual  ayde  in  God,  when  that 
he  is  contente  wyth  every  fortune,  as   well  Avyth  ad- 
versyte  as  prosperyte,  conformying  and  referrying  all 
hys  worschype  unto  God,  to  serve  and  to  obey  hys 
wyll." 


THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  241 

"  As  I  read  over  these  devout  sentences/'  continued 
the  dying  Viscount,  "  a  new  light  suddenly  brake  in 
upon  my  benighted  spirit,  and  shewed  me  that  I  was 
in  the  condition  of  tliat  soul ;  being  freed  from  all 
the  cares  of  this  world,  and  almost  launched  away 
into  the  next.  I  was  now  regarded  as  one  dead,  or 
as  a  fugitive  in  the  camp  and  a  traitor  in  the  Court, 
and  all  too  much  shaken  by  sickness  ever  again  to 
appear  in  either ;  yet  did  T  know  full  little  how  to 
turn  me  unto  a  holy  life  and  the  service  of  God.  Oh  ! 
good  Plantagenet,  had  I  but  fought  against  the  Fiend 
in  mine  own  heart,  but  half  so  stoutly  as  I  have  done 
battle  in  mortal  strife, — had  I  but  shewed  unto  the 
King  of  Kings  but  half  the  duteous  loyalty  which  I 
ever  gave  unto  thy  father, — I  had  not  now  been  left 
thus  desolate,  defamed,  and  out  of  suits  with  fortune; 
I  had  not  now  had  all  my  ghostly  labours  to  do,  when 
that  I  have  neither  strength  nor  space  wherein  to  per- 
form them !" 

"  Good,  my  Lord,"  responded  I,  "  you  should  yet 
be  of  good  cheer,  since  I  have  heard  it  spoken  from 
holy  St.  Austin,  that  we  read  of  one  man  who  was 
saved  at  the  last  hour,  that  none  may  despair ;  though 
but  of  one,  that  none  should  presume." 

"  Truly,  young  Plantagenet,"  hereunto  replied  the 
Viscount,  "  I  am  of  good  cheer,  nay,  I  am  full  merry ; 
for  albeit  I  have  fasted  long  and  sadly,  yet  do  I  trust 
this  night  to  banquet  most  richly  in  Paradise  ! — How- 
beit,  as  the  time   when  I  shall  speak  and  thou   shalt 


242      THE  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

hear  is  hastily  passing  away,  let  me  go  on  whilst  lite 
is  left  unto  me. — Hunger  had  now  assailed  me  like  a 
mighty  foe,  and  sleeping  and  waking,  night  and  day, 
I  vainly  looked  around  and  clamoured  for  food ; 
almost  maddened  at  finding  it  came  not,  or  that  what 
I  saw  and  ate  of  in  my  dreams  was  not  real  and  sub- 
stantial. I  held  Israel  to  be  a  savage  and  unfeeling 
traitor,  deeming  that  only  one  of  his  abhoi-red  race 
would  have  left  his  ancient  benefactor,  alone  and 
powerless  upon  a  bed  of  sickness,  without  some  effort 
to  administer  unto  his  sorrow." 

"In  good  sooth,  my  Lord,"  interposed  I  at  this  place, 
"  I  would  not  offend  you,  but  yet  I  wot  well  that  you 
erred  in  this  matter :  since  that  man  hath  too  deeply 
felt  the  shaft  of  calamity  and  persecution  himself,  not 
to  have  compassion  upon  others.  I  was  left  wounded, 
and,  perchance,  dying,  upon  the  field  at  Bosworth, 
unknown  and  disregarded  of  all,  since  mine  only 
friend  lay  a  bloody  corse  thereon  : — and,  but  for  the 
humanity  of  Israel  and  his  late  virtuous  spouse,  I  had 
not  now  lived  to  stand  by  the  couch  of  another,  or 
to  speak  in  vindication  of  my  benefactor.  And  think 
not,  I  pray  you,  good  my  Lord,  that  if  he  be  not  il- 
lumined by  the  Christian  Faith,  he  is  therefore  aban- 
doned for  ever ;  since  we  who  adore  a  God  who  will 
not  that  any  should  perish,  may  not  rashly  condemn 
even  a  Jew  of  virtuous  life  and  warm  and  charitable 
heart," 

"  Thou  hast  a  generous  and  kindly  soul,  Richard 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENBTS.  243 

Plantagenet/'   rejoined  the  Lord   Lovel,   "and  unto 
somewhat  of  this  did  mine  own  thoughts  arrive,  after 
that  my  spirit  had  been  softened  and  purified  by  much 
reading  in  that  holy  book   of  the   Imitation  of  Our 
Lord ;  and  another  little  tome  of  certain  texts  of  the 
Sacred  Scriptures,  translated  into  English  by  Master 
John  de  Trevisa.*     In  the  pondering  ujion  these,  I 
seemed,  as  it  were,  to  forget  time  and  to  lose  mine 
infirmity ;  and   they  so  wrought  within  me,  that  first 
came    sorrow    and    penitence    into   mine  heart,    and 
tears  from  mine  eyes,  such  as  I  had  never  sh-ed  before. 
And  anon  came  a  godly  joy  and  illumination,  which 
made  me  ahnost  to  leap  as  I  read  when  I  began   to 
understand  how   true   were  the  words,  which  I   had 
heard  spoken  from  the  blessed  'Vangil,  '  Non  hi  solo 
pane  vivit  homo,  sed  in   omni  vcrbo  qui  procedil  de  ore 
Dei :'  man  liveth  not  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every 
word  which  cometh  forth  of  the  mouth  of  God.     For 
albeit  I   was   still  shrewdly  an-hungered,  yet  had  I 
now  good  store  of  the  Bread  of  Life  ;  and  feeding  upon 
that  I  freely  forgave  my  death  luito  the  Hebrew,  and 


*  'I'liis  collection  was  made  towards  the  close  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  and  is  sometimes  said  to  have  included  the 
whole  of  the  Scriptures ;  though  it  more  probably  contained 
only  a  few  texts  which  were  painted  on  the  walls  of  the  Cha])el 
in  Berkeley  Castle,  executed  by  command  of  I.ord  Thomas  De 
Berkeley.  Trevisa  was  a  celebx-ated  translator  of  numerous 
works,  and  Vicar  of  Berkeley  in  the  County  of  Gloucester. 


244      THK  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

thought  me  ah-eady  at  the  gate  of  Heaven  ! — Bitt 
now — my  strength  indeed  faileth, — and  I  must  hasten 
to  close.  On  the  morning  of  yesterday,  I  chanced  to 
find  a  crust,  full  hard  and  mouldy  and  black  with  age, 
such  as  in  the  days  of  my  pride  I  would  not  have  cast 
unto  a  hound  that  I  held  in  any  favour  ;  on  the  which, 
howbeit,  I  now  seized  with  thankfulness  and  joy,  eat- 
ing it  with  much  devotion,  as  the  Blessed  Sacrament 
sent  unto  me  before  my  death :  for  I  say  unto  thee, 
Richard,  that  until  I  partake  of  the  food  of  Angels, 
there  shall  no  other  pass  between  my  dying  lips !" 

Albeit  I  saw  that  it  was  now  altogether  in  vain,  I 
could  not  but  assay  as  I  might  to  support  the  sinking 
Lord  Lovel ;  still  declaring  mine  earnest  hope  that 
he  was  not  yet  so  shrewdly  distempered  as  he  judged 
of  himself,  nor  that  food  and  the  remedies  which  I 
bore,  might  not  render  him  good  service.  "  Nay," 
answered  he  again,  "  that  cannot  be ;  for  the  cold 
damp  of  my  former  lodging,  and  that  which  I  took 
upon  my  first  coming  hither,  hath  stricken  unto  my 
very  heart,  and  brought  on  a  fever  of  such  consuming- 
fierceness,  that  nothing  now  can  allay  it.  The  wise  in 
physic  do  indeed  tell,  that  much  fasting  will  presently 
starve  a  fever  out  of  man's  frame,  but  it  hath  not  been 
so  with  me ;  though,  peradventure,  my  sinful  anger 
against  Israel  when  I  deemed  that  he  had  so  foully 
deserted  me,  hath  shaken  me  as  shrewdly  as  lack  of 
sustenance.  Yet  be  this  as  it  Avill,  my  sickness  hath 
now  risen  unto  a  height  as  no  medicines  can  stay  it; 


THE    LAST    OF    THR    PLANTAGENETS.  245 

albeit  I  bless  God  that  I  have  found  a  sure  and  faith- 
ful Physician  for  my  soul." 

Hereupon  I  did  urge  unto  him  hope  of  life  no 
longer,  seeing  that  his  pallid  and  sunken  cheek  sud- 
denly turned  paler,  sliewing  that  he  was  now  nigh 
unto  the  death,  for  which  he  was  so  well  fitted :  but, 
that  his  worldly  desires  should  be  fulfilled  in  as  much 
as  they  might,  I  demanded  of  him,  in  great  sorrow, 
if  there  were  aught  wherein  I  could  yet  serve  him. 

"  Mourn  not  for  me,  noble  youth,"  responded  he> 
"  though  thou  hast  so  gentle  and  kindly  a  heart,  that 
I  feel  much  sadness  that  I  cannot  guerdon  thy  love 
towards  me ;  or  give  thee  aught  but  thanks  for  thy 
many  and  courteous  services.  Yet,  to  be  still  more 
thy  debtor,  there  is  one  thing, — and  that  of  some  ha- 
zard,— which  I  would  fain  have  thee  do  for  me  when 
I  am  departed  ;  the  which,  only  my  long-increasing 
infirmity  hath  kept  me  from  braving  for  myself. — It 
is  to  ascend  the  secret  stair  out  of  this  cell,  which  will 
lead  thee  into  a  broad  fire-place  in  mine  ovvn  chamber 
above ;  wherein,  beneath  the  middle  window,  thou 
wilt  find  a  panel  in  the  wall,  sculptured  with  the  de- 
vices of  my  House. — Firmly  press  down  the  body  of 
the  ramping  lion  on  the  'scutcheon,  and  a  spring  will 
be  loosened  that  holds  up  the  shield,  which,  falling 
down,  will  discover  unto  thee  a  little  secret  closet. 
Therein  is  a  steel  casket  containing  some  gold,  and 
divers  letters  from  certain  partisans  of  the  House  of 
York,  who  are  now  living  and  unsuspected,  touching 


246  THE    LAST    OF    THE    TLANTAGENETS. 

a  rising  against  Harry  of  Lancaster. — These  I  charge 
thee  to  take  forth,  and  destroy  as  surely  and  as  speedily 
as  thou  mayest,  that  none  may  hereafter  find  them, 
and  bring  others  into  infamy  or  death.  For  the  gold 
wliich  is  in  the  casket,  take  it  unto  thyself,  good  Rich- 
ard, I  give  it  thee  all,  and  would  it  were  far  greater. — 
Now — Farewell ! — may  the  blessing  of  a  dying  friend 
rest  upon  thee  ! — and  I  lack  only  a  Confessor,  that  I 
too  might  have  absolution  and  benediction." 

Unto  this  I  replied,  that  I  would  assuredly  under- 
take his  trust,  and,  if  he  so  desired,  would  go  forth 
to  seek  him  a  Confessor ;  but  he  answered  me  that  he 
might  not  then  permit  it,  for  that  death  was  dealing 
so  shrewdly  with  him,  that  he  should  eftsoons  depart. 
"  And  thou  forgettest,"  added  he,  "  that  by  thus  doing 
thou  wouldest  hazard  thine  own  safety  ;  and,  per- 
chance, that  of  the  holy  man  who  should  come  unto 
me.  And  in  sooth,"  he  faintly  continued,  "  though  I 
would  fain  be  shriven  and  absolved  by  the  Church, 
that  so  my  spirit  might  be  the  better  fitted  to  appear 
at  the  Throne  of  God,  yet  do  I  well  trust  that  I  am  so 
accounted  in  Heaven,  unto  which  I  have  devoutly 
confessed ;  and  so  may  pass  away  in  hope,  albeit  un- 
houselled  and  unannealled  with  the  Sacraments  of 
Confession  or  Extreme-Unction." 

"  In  truth,  my  good  Lord,"  answered  I,  who  was 
inwardly  praying  for  him  upon  my  rosary,  "  I  do  well 
believe  it,  and  my  poor  orisons  shall  not  be  wanting 
that  your  spirit  may  rise  speedily  unto  glory." 


THE    LAST    or    THE     PLANTAGENETS.  247 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  good  Richard,"  returned  the 
Viseoiuit,  "  and  if  no  other  prayers  be  heard  for  me 
wliilst  my  soul  is  parting  from  her  clay,  if  no  dirge 
be  sung  over  my  corse,  yet  Vvill  I  not  faint  even  in 
the  shadow  of  death ;  nor  fear  that  the  lack  of  priestly 
rites,  all  sacred  though  they  be,  shall  mar  my  joyful 
entrance  into  Paradise." 

Upon  this,  as  it  were  exhausted  by  so  much  speak- 
ing, he  gradually  sank  back,  grasping  my  hand,  and 
closing  his  eyes  :  so  that  I  drew  in  my  breath  with 
anxious  dread,  thinking  that  his  last  moment  was  in- 
deed come.  Yet  whilst  I  thus  bent  sorrowfully  over 
him,  his  spirit  came  unto  him  again,  and  he  reared 
him  with  even  more  seeming  strength  than  before  : 
but,  from  the  glazed  look  of  his  eyes,  I  well  deemed 
that  it  was  but  the  last  brief  and  sudden  kindling  up 
of  the  taper  of  life,  which  was  speedily  to  sink  down 
into  an  immortal  darkness. 

Howbeit,  for  some  short  space  he  was  again  him- 
self, and  said  unto  me,  "  'Tis  in  vain,  Plantagenet, 
'tis  in  vain;  not  all  thy  kind  offices  can  now  save  thy 
dying  friend,  or  even  give  him  a  sepulchre  when  he 
shall  be  no  more.  Yet,  though  God  hath  willed  it 
thus,  I  pray  thee  help  me  to  don  my  grave-clothes, 
the  which  thou  wilt  find  in  yonder  chest  ;  being  the 
kniglitly  suit  I  ever  wore  both  at  Court  and  in  the 
battle.  —  So, — 'tis  well — good  Richard, — but  haste 
thee,  for  even  now  I  feel  my  blood  ceasing  to  flow — 
there, — my  surcoat  of  arms,  and  my  helm  upon  my 


248      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGKNETS. 

head — that  thus  apparelled,  as  Lovel  was  wont  to  be 
in  the  day  of  his  power,  when  they  who  live  in  after- 
times  shall  haply  find  his  wasted  limbs  and  mouldered 
form,  in  this  secret  place,  which  hath  been  his  cell  and 
sepulchre, — they  may  truly  know  who  and  what  he 
was  when  living ;  nor  confound  the  reliques  of  a 
Lovel  and  a  soldier,  with  the  ashes  of  the  ignoble 
dead." 

I  hastened  to  fulfil  his  request  and  speedily  clothed 
him  as  he  desired,  and  when  he  was  so  habited  he 
thanked  me,  and  said  he  felt  him  more  at  ease ;  not 
that  his  sickness  had  in  aught  abated,  but  that  he  was 
now  clothed  in  the  only  shroud  which  those  of  his 
House  were  ever  wont  to  wear.  Upon  my  demand- 
ing of  him  if  there  were  aught  else  wherein  I  might 
pleasure  him,  he  replied,  "nought,  my  most  constant 
friend,  but  this — that  thou  wouldest  bring  hither  yon- 
der cross,  that  I  may  kiss  it,  and  die  in  grasping  the 
sign  of  our  salvation. — So — now  set  it  upon  the  table 
before  me,  with  the  holy  books  which  have  so  often 
soothed  me  in  mine  hours  of  loneliness  and  sorrow, 
and  have  dressed  my  soul  for  it's  final  departure:  the 
which  may  indeed  tell  them  that  in  future  days  shajl 
light  upon  my  bones,  that  Lovel  died  a  Christian  as 
well  as  a  Noble  and  a  Soldier." 

When  I  had  forthAvith  perfoi-med  all  that  he  de- 
sired, he  once  more  assayed  to  speak,  albeit  very 
faintly,  and  said, — "  So, — this  is  well, — and  now  the 
courses  being  all  set   to  sea,   wherefore   should  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  249 

barque  tarry  longer  ?  or,  in  good  sooth,  why  should 
not  the  worn-out  shallop  which  hath  been  so  long 
tossed  upon  the  wild  waters,  make  at  once  for  the 
haven  where  she  may  safely  cast  hev  anchor  for 
ever?" 

Such  was  the  Lord  Level's  tranquillity  and  gentle 
resignation  in  his  last  hours;  the  which,  though  sweet 
to  behold  and  glorious  to  remember,  still  had  in  them 
so  much  of  sadness,  that  tears  fell  from  mine  eyes, 
and  I  mourned  bitterly  that  one  so  rich  in  grace  and 
dignity  should  presently  cease  to  be  upon  the  earth. 
He  marked  mine  emotion,  and  full  kindly  counselled 
me  to  lay  aside  my  sorrows,  seeing  that  his  had  reach- 
ed their  termination ;  and  that  I  should  dry  the  tears 
which  dinmied  mine  eyes,  that  I  might  well  mark 
how  to  close  up  his.  His  tongue  did  now  begin 
altogether  to  fail  him,  and  his  eyes  looked  set  in  his 
head  as  if  their  sight  were  gone ;  whilst  his  words 
came  thick  and  obscure,  so  that  I  might  scarcely  hear 
them.  Yet  was  his  look  high  and  stately,  and  his 
face  lighted  up  with  that  unearthly  lustre,  which 
spake  eloquently  of  a  peace  of  mind,  that  his  speech 
could  but  imperfectly  give  utterance  to.  But  full 
soon  came  the  last  solemn  change,  wherein  the  dark 
shades  of  Death  invaded  his  visage,  and  his  sense  of 
existence  seemed  to  depart.  Yet  even  in  that  mo- 
ment of  dissolution,  did  I  pray  him  to  give  me  some 
sign  if  his  ho])e  in  Heaven  wei'e  still  good ;  where- 
upon he  grasped  the  crucifix  with  wondrous  power. 


250  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

and  faltered  out  a  part  of  the  dying  words  of  the  holy 

Stephen, —"  Domine — Jesu — suscipe "    I    listened 

for  some  moments  joyfully,  though  anxiously,  for  the 

end  thereof; but  on  again   looking  towards  the 

face  of  tlie  Lord  Lovel,  I  full  soon  perceived  that  I 
was  alone ! 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A    FOREIGN    ADVENTURER    AND    SPY    ENCOUNTERED 

RECRUITING    IN    THE    FIFTEENTH    CENTURY AND 

FIFTEEN    YEARS    OF    EXILE    FR03I    ENGLAND. 

Where  hast  thou  served  ? 

May  it  please  you,  Sir,  in  all  the  late  wars  of  Dohemia,  Hungaria,  Dalma- 
lia,  Poland;  where  not,  Sir  ?  I  have  been  a  poor  servitor  by  sea  and  land, 
any  time  this  fourteen  years,  and  followed  the  fortunes  of  the  lx;st  com- 
manders in  Christendom. 

Is  it  possible  that  thou  shouldest  disguise  thyself  so  as  I  should  not  know  thee? 
Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humouu. 

I  like  thee  well ;  wilt  tliou  forsake  thy  fortune, 

And  follow  me  ? 

I  am  a  Soldier,  and  now  bound  to  Franco. 

ShAKSI'EARE. 

So  died  the  good  Knight,  Francis,  the  ninth  Lord, 
and  first  Viscount,  Lovel  ; — yet  seemingly  witliout 
any  touch  of  pain,  and  so  peacefully  and  silently,  that 
even  at  the  very  moment  of  his  departure,  I  knew  not 
indeed  that  all  was  over.  Howbeit,  I  might  not  long 
remain  in  doubt,  but  speedily  saw  that  he  was  gone 
from  this  earth,  and  that  I  liad  now  only  to  close  his 
eyes,  unto  the  which  I  sadl}'  addressed  myself.  He 
had  so  orderly  settled  himself  to  die,  that  there  was 
little  left  for  me  to  perform  for  him ;  yet  did  I  com- 
pose him  so,  that  he  should  have  the  semblance  of 


252  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

one  who  rested  after  the  labours  of  a  weary  clay,  with 
his  head  inclined  upon  his  hand.  In  all  things,  there- 
fore, did  I  fulfil  his  dying  desires,  so  that  if  ever  men 
should  discover  and  open  liis  last  retreat  and  burial- 
place,*  his  wishes  shall  assuredly  come  to  pass  ;  inas- 
much as  that  none  will  ever  deem  him  to  have  been 
of  low  degree,  albeit  mischance  denied  his  bones  a 
sepulchre  in  holy  ground. 

This  solemn  duty  done,  as  it  now  grew  towards 
morning,  I  bethought  me  of  entering  the  chamber 
whereof  he  had  spoken,  and  taking  thence  the  casket 
he  had  charged  me  with,  whiles  the  day  was  yet  young  ; 
for  that  I  now  desired  to  depart  from  that  sad  cell, 
deeming  it  bootless  to  remain  there  longer,  since  all 
that  had  kept  me  therein  had  left  it  for  ever :  and  I 
felt  me  no  more  bound  by  duty  or  liking  to  stay  witli 


•  This  discovery  did  not  take  place  until  the  year  1708, 
when,  in  laying  a  new  chimney  at  Minster-Lovel,  a  large  vault 
or  room  was  found  beneath  ;  in  which  appeared  the  entire 
skeleton  of  a  man  sitting  at  a  table  with  books,  &c.  before  him, 
whilst  in  another  part  of  the  chamber  was  a  cap,  the  whole 
being  in  a  decayed  and  mouldering  state.  It  is  also  sometimes 
added,  that  the  vault  contained  several  barrels  and  jars  which 
had  held  his  stores;  but  the  former  part  of  this  accoimt  rests 
on  the  witness  and  authority  of  John  INIanners,  tliird  Duke  of 
Rutland,  who  related  it  in  the  hearing  of  William  Cowper,  P>sq. 
Clerk  of  the  Parliament,  on  May  8th,  1728;  by  whom  it  is 
presei-ved  in  a  letter  dated  Hertingfordbury  Park,  August  9th, 
1737. 


TlIK    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  253 

that  poor  and  lifeless  dust,  as  the  jewel  being  now  gone, 
the  sordid  case  which  had  enclosed  it  was  no  longer 
worth  the  watching. 

So  forth  I  went  from  the  cell  up  the  little  secret 
winding  stair,  at  the  top  whereof  I  found  a  strong 
door,  which  opened  with  a  very  hard  spring  upon  one 
side  of  a  wide  and  ancient  hearth,  behind  a  high  settle 
of  carved  and  blackened  oak.  So  cunningly  was  it 
hidden,  that  no  man  might  ever  have  discovered  it 
vmless  the  device  had  been  shewn  unto  him  ;  for  that 
the  portal  was  formed  of  the  stones  whereof  the  fire- 
place was  built  set  in  an  oaken  frame.  The  chamber 
into  which  it  led,  was  one  of  much  state  and  richness, 
although  it  was  now  ruined  and  despoiled  ;  partly  by 
decay  of  years,  and  partly  by  the  rude  soldiery  who 
had  been  placed  therein  upon  the  supposed  death  of 
the  Lord  Lovel.  The  'broidered  azure  hangings  were 
now  torn  and  falling  piecemeal  fronci  the  walls,  the 
goodly  painted  window  was  broken,  and  the  fair 
carved- work  was  on  all  sides  battered  and  defaced  ;  yet 
did  I  find  the  sculptured  panel,  of  which  I  was  in 
quest,  unsuspected  and  undefaced  beneath  that  cu- 
rious oriel-window,  some  panes  whereof  looked  into 
our  cell.  IJut  in  the  chamber  unto  which  it  did  rightly 
belong,  it  formed  a  fair  and  broad  bay,  fitting  to  be 
set  out  with  high  stands  of  plate  at  a  banquet,  or  yield 
pleasant  pastime  towards  the  park,  seeing  that  it 
opened  on  to  a  stone  gallery  or  terrace  without,  of 
little  height  above  the  green-sward  thereof. 


254  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

I  paused  not  long  to  note  these  things,  or  to  mark 
the  desolate  and  melancholy  condition  of  the  dead 
Viscount's  Chamber  of  Estate  ;  both  because  the  sight 
thereof  made  me  full  sad,  and  for  that  I  Avell  knew 
that  I  must  speed  me  back  again  through  the  cell  to 
close  up  each  entrance  as  securely  as  I  might :  and 
therefore,  after  looking  cautiously  around  me,  I  has- 
tened unto  the  panel,  opened  it  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  soon  had  the  steel  casket  safe  within  my 
bosom.  I  had  again  closed  up  that  secret  cabinet,  and 
was  once  more  passing  quickly  towards  the  hearth, 
when  a  strong  and  mournful  blast  of  November's  wind, 
swept  in  from  the  gallery  through  the  broken  oriel- 
window,  and,  mightily  shaking  the  chamber  wherein 
I  then  was,  suddenly  shut  the  secret  door  with  a  clap 
of  wondrous  loudness ;  the  spring  thereof  locking 
itself  so  firmly,  that  all  in  vain  I  assayed  to  open  or 
even  to  discover  it  again. 

Whilst  I  stood  thus  perplexed,  and  pondering  how 
I  might  best  escape  from  the  jeopardy  into  which  that 
mischance  had  thrown  me,  I  heard  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps approaching  the  chamber,  whereupon  I  also 
came  forward,  either  to  leap  from  the  window,  if 
space  were  given  me  so  to  do,  or  to  brave  all  hazards 
as  I  might;  but  in  nowise  to  discover  the  passage 
whereby  I  had  entered,  nor  even  to  be  seen  near  the 
secret  door,  lest  others  should  find  the  means  to  open 
it  and  so  descend  unto  the  cell.  He  who  presently 
came  in  unto  the  apartment,  was  a  tall  and  stout  man 


THK    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  255 

of  a  martial  air^  as  though  he  had  sometime  been  wont 
to  bear  arms ;  and  indeed  he  was  now  habited  in  the 
coarse  and  soiled  dress,  and  dull  iron  of  a  common 
soldier.  His  face  methought  wore  a  look  of  craft  and 
reckless  boldness,  as  if  he  liad  been  one  of  those  wan- 
dering foreign  lance-men,  who  follow  any  leader,  and 
do  any  deed  for  gain,  the  which  were  of  old  oft-times 
brought  into  England  to  fill  up  the  King's  armies, 
though  much  to  the  molestation  and  disquiet  of  the 
realm ;  and  of  a  truth  he  was  no  other  than  a  stout 
and  subtle  lanz-knecht,  who  could  well  keep  him  by 
spur  and  spear,  wherever  there  was  tumult,  Avar^  or 
spoil. 

I  did  thus  curiously  look  upon  his  features,  for 
that  they  seemed  unto  me  as  if  I  had  more  than  once 
seen  them  afore ;  of  the  which  I  was  full  soon  con- 
vinced, when  he  accosted  me  in  a  mocking  voice  with 
— "  Ha  !  what  my  young  master  !  art  thou  here  too  ? 
methinks  we  meet  full  often  of  late  ;  and  which  way 
might  you  get  entrance,  my  forward  stripling  ?" 

"  Truly,"  answered  I,  with  such  boldness  as  I  could 
best  assume  on  the  instant,  "  truly,  it  asks  but  small 
warrant  to  enter  a  house  where  there  is  neither  lord 
in  the  chamber  nor  lacquey  in  the  hall ;  and  so  I  even 
wandered  hither,  and  was  gazing  awhile  upon  this 
old  apartment ;  but  for  our  often  meeting,  in  good 
sooth  I  wot  but  little." 

"  Aye,  marry,"  responded  the  gibing  Soldier,  "  that 
I  trow  is  because  you  are  like  most  other  great  men 


256      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

who  forget  their  friends  ;  natheless,  I  know  ye  as  well 
here  as  at  Ely  Monastery,  or  Leicester  Castle,  or  in 
West-Cheap  when  the  City- Watch  is  marching,  or  in 
the  Red  Rose  hostel  of  Gideon  Staples  at  Elveston  ; — 
when  some  were  in  shrewd  hazard  of  being  hung  for 
a  traitor,  had  not  I  been  at  hand  to  cover  their  safe 
withdrawing." 

Unto  this  I  exclaimed  in  great  amazement,  "  what 
sayest  thou  ?  wert  thou  the  Clerk  then  who  told  me 
of  the  overthrow  at  Stoke,  and  shewed  me  where 
Israel  of  Castile  was  waiting  for  me?" 

"Aye,  by  St.  Nicholas!  was  I,  my  young  springald," 
responded  the  rude  Soldier,  "  for  that  I  was  his  debtor 
and  had  so  covenanted  with  him ;  and  I  ever  keep 
true  touch  to  mine  employers." 

"  Scarcely  so,  methinks,"  answered  I,  "  if,  as  I  take 
it,  you  are  one  Bernard  Schalken,  a  Brabanter,  who 
served  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mountford,  and  knavishly  left 
and  betrayed  him,  with  certain  letters  that  were  en- 
trusted unto  his  charge." 

"  Content  thee,  content  thee,  stripling,  it  skills  not 
what  thou  thinkest  of  that  act,"  responded  the  Lance- 
man,  "  though  I  be  in  sooth  Bernard  Schalken  ;  how- 
beit,  as  I  would  anon  fain  have  thee  frank  with  me,  I 
will  first  be  so  with  thee,  therefore  open  thine  ears 
and  take  this  lesson  from  an  old  soldier  and  traveller, 
if  thou  shouldest  have  life  given  thee  to  use  it.  I 
was  born  to  a  hardy  lanz-knecht,  on  a  march  in  Ger- 
many ;    though   I  speak  you   most  tongues,    having 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  257 

served  in  most  countries.  Now  you  may  well  wot 
that  we  Flemings  and  Almaines,  who  live  by  spur  and 
spear,  must  be  little  dainty  as  to  what  lord  we  will 
serve,  though  we  be  true  as  blade  to  pomel  when  we 
have  once  engaged  us,  until  our  paction  be  out :  so  Sir 
Gilbert  De  JMountford  was  overseen,  in  that,  when  my 
time  was  up,  he  struck  no  new  bargain  with  me. 
Thus  might  I  leave  him,  yet  with  a  clear  faith,  and 
take  service  with  King  Harry,  who  held  me  to  spy 
and  peer  after  such  forward  Yorkists  as  thyself;  and 
I  may  now  tell  thee,  that  another  day  in  London 
after  thy  brawl  in  West-Cheap,  had  seen  thee  in  hold, 
young  Sir,  with  your  consorts.  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mount- 
ford,  Master  St.  Leger,  and  others  of  the  like  sort." 

Then  did  T  full  anxiously  demand  of  Bernard  touch- 
ing the  imprisonment  of  the  good  Knight,  whereupon 
he  told  me,  how  having  been  in  great  straits  from 
suspicion  of  being  in  league  with  the  Yorkists,  he 
was  at  length  arrested  and  sent  unto  the  Tower,  with 
others  of  his  party,  and  landed  at  the  Traitors'  Bridge. 
"  Once  secured  there,"  added  the  Soldier,  "  Sir  Gilbert 
had  but  brief  space  given  him  either  for  sorrow  or 
shriving  ;  since  a  short  hour  for  confession  and  prayer, 
was  all  that  passed  between  the  gaoler's  bolt,  the  priest's 
rosary,  and  the  sharp  axe  of  the  executioner !" 

I  looked  much  aghast  at  these  tidings,  the  truth 
whereof  I  did  almost  question,  because  they  were 
uttered  in  a  rude  and  gibing  voice,  yet  too  soon  did  I 
find  that  Bernard  spake  full  sooth,  and  that  my  former 


258      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

friend,  the  stout  and  generous  Sir  Gilbert,  had  indeed 
perished  untimely  upon  the  scaffold.  In  his  fall,  I  saw, 
with  much  fear  and  sadness,  the  hazard  wherein  I 
myself  stood  of  dying  like  a  traitor  were  T  taken,  and 
I  resolved  if  I  might  now  escape,  at  once  to  cross 
the  seas  and  become  a  soldier ;  since  to  be  slain  in  a 
brave,  though  bloody  war,  where  I  might  sink  into  a 
valorous  grave,  seemed,  unto  my  mind,  but  little  pain 
in  comparison  thereof. 

But  whiles  I  thus  pondered  the  rude  Bernard  con- 
tinued, "  Aye,  by  the  spear  of  St.  IMichael !  stripling, 
you  may  well  look  grave,  for  that  I  have  told  you  is 
as  true  as  the  'Vangils ;  and  you  had  gone  with  the 
rest,  had  you  not  fled  as  you  did,  for  you  neither  guer- 
doned my  favour  nor  bought  my  silence." 

"And  how  might  I  deem,"  answered  I  unto  the 
wily  adventurer,  "how  was  I  to  think  that  such  pay 
was  looked  for .''" 

"  Gold  makes  the  truest  breast-plate,"  replied  Ber- 
nard thereunto,  "but  that  debt  you  may  yet  wipe 
out.  Howbeit,  as  I  guessed  that  all  Yorkists  would 
ride  the  same  road,  my  barb  and  I  set  out  towards 
Stoke  to  meet  you.  When  at  Elveston  I  encountered 
the  Hebrew  you  wot  of,  and  although,  to  make  better 
espial,  I  had  clad  me  in  a  clerk's  doublet,  yet,  to  tell 
you  truly,  I  had  as  lief  seen  the  Henker,  as  the  Jew  ; 
since  I  owed  him  certain  monies  for  drink ings  and 
and  other  disports,  for  King  Harry  gives  good  em- 
ploy,   though  small  pay  and  bare  quarters.     I   was 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  259 

pondering  how  best  to  avoid  him  or  give  him  some 
sort  of  quittance,  for  my  sword  is  alway  heavier  than 
my  pouch, — Avhen  he  at  once  knew  me,  accosted  me, 
and  proffered  to  blot  out  my  score,  and  give  me  a 
noble  to  boot,  so  I  would  truly  look  after  thy  safety, 
and  seize  from  thee  such  letters  as  might  bring  thee 
into  hazard ;  the  which  I  agreed  to,  and  well,  I  trow, 
did  I  keep  my  pledge." 

Hereupon  I  demanded  of  the  rude  Soldier  if  he 
now  knew  aught  of  Israel,  whereunto  he  answered, 
by  telling  me  of  certain  matters  which  I  perceived 
had  chanced  in  mine  absence,  and  of  which  I  had  not 
yet  heard.  He  told  me  of  the  hazard  into  which  the 
Jew  had  fallen,  from  being  suspected  of  holding  se- 
cret intercourse  Avith  the  Lord  Lovel,  whom  divers 
thought  was  yet  living,  though  his  retreat  might  not 
be  found ;  and  farther,  that  some  week  past  Israel 
had  been  seized  by  certain  spies  lurking  near  the 
Viscount's  dwelling.  Mine  heart  sank  within  me  as 
he  recounted  the  Hebrew's  after-fate,  how  he  had 
been  fearfully  menaced,  to  make  him  give  full  and 
true  answer  to  all  which  might  be  demanded  ;  but 
albeit  they  vainly  sought  to  terrify  him  by  declaring 
that  horrid  machines  of  torture  should  rend  asunder 
his  limbs  whiles  that  he  was  yet  quick,  still  did  the 
brave  and  constant  Israel,  unbeliever  as  he  might  be, 
forget  not  his  pledge,  and  failed  not  in  his  faith  unto 
the  Lord  Lovel.  His  resolution  sank  not  even  in  the 
sight  of  his  torments,  but   lie  remained  ever  firm  to 


2f)0  THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

the  surety  he  had  given,  and  never  revealed  the 
escape  or  hiding-place  of  his  benefactor.  I  may  here 
note  farther,  as  my  last  knowledge  concerning  him, 
that  at  a  future  time  I  learned,  that  from  the  very 
hour  he  became  suspected  of  a  league  "with  the 
Viscount,  they  who  seized  upon  him  left  not  to  per- 
secute him,  whilst  there  was  hope  of  his  making  any 
disclosure  either  by  fraud  or  force ;  and  when  it  was 
found  that  neither  might  prevail  anything,  his  goods 
were  confiscated,  and  himself  sent  out  of  the  realm, 
under  the  law  that  all  Jews  were  banished  from  Eng- 
land for  ever.  Thus  was  he  never  left  at  freedom, 
until  his  guards  had  seen  him  on  board  the  barque 
which  was  to  bear  him  beyond  sea.  What  afterwards 
became  of  him,  or  unto  what  country  he  went,  I  ne- 
ver might  hear,  yet  do  I  trust  that  he  ended  his  life 
in  peace,  although  in  exile ;  for  this  will  I  say  of  him 
for  mine  own  part,  and  this  doth  he  well  deserve  of 
my  report,  that  the  blessing  of  him  that  was  ready  to 
perish  was  upon  him,  and  that  he  caused  the  heart 
of  the  fatherless  to  sing  for  joy. 

When  the  Lance-man  had  told  me  of  these  sad 
tidings,  he  concluded  with  "And  now,  I  prythee 
youth,  having  answered  all  thy  demands,  tell  me  who 
thou  art  thyself.^  Thou  canst  scarce  be  the  Jew's  son, 
though  thou  shouldest  be  a  cockerell  of  some  rare 
line,  to  draw  me  a  good  ten  pound  out  of  his  purse ; 
for  such  was  the  least  penny  that  I  owed  him." 

Hereupon  I   answered,   though  with  some  doubt 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENE TS.  261 

and  pausing,  that  it  mattered  but  little  unto  him  as 
to  what  race  I  came  of:  but  that  I  was  the  orphan 
of  a  brave  soldier  who  fell  upon  Bosworth-field. 

"  Art  thou  so,  by  St.  IMartin  of  Tours  \"  exclaimed 
the  gibing  Bernard,  "then  doth  that,  with  thy  name 
of  Ricliard,    thy  fresh  ruddy  looks  and  blue  eyes, 

spell  at  length ,  Avhat  I  know  full  well,  though 

I  speak  it  not  now.  Nay,  farther,  stripling,  it  shall 
be  safe  for  the  future,  and  thou  mayest  forthwith 
depart,  so  thou  wilt  tell  me  of  one  other  thing, 
which  is,  the  secret  Avay  into  this  chamber ;  for  I 
can  well  deem  that  thou  knowest  it,  and  perchance 
somewhat  more.  And  now,"  continued  he  with  a 
full  stern  voice,  "  mark  me,  boy  ;  hitherto  have  I  been 
meri'y  with  thee,  but  as  I  am  once  again  the  royal 
Harry's  follower,  set  to  keep  this  mansion  for  him, — 
I  will  have  this  matter  from  thee  strait,  or,  by  the 
Blessed  Melchior  of  Cologne  !  I  will  send  thee  truss- 
ed neck  and  heels  unto  the  Court,  as  they  carried  thy 
father  to  his  grave,  with  a  pursuivant  to  declare  thy 
lofty  birth  unto  the  King  !  Chuse,  then,  briefly,  and 
at  once." 

I  had  afore  noted  the  ruffian-like  violence  of  this 
Soldier,  and  unto  this  end  had  drawn  me  as  nigh  unto 
the  window  as  I  might,  feeling  in  my  bosom  for  a 
sharp  little  dagger  which  the  Lord  Lovel  had  given 
unto  me  when  I  left  him  for  London ; — deeming  that 
I  might  yet  find  strength  enow  to  plunge  it  into  the 
Lance-man  should   he  closely  assail  me.     As,  there- 


262  THK    LAST    OF    TIIK  I'LANTAGENETS. 

fore,  he  bade  me  to  determine  upon  what  I  would 
now  do,  I  hastily  brake  forth  into  that  gallery  be- 
yond the  oriel-window,  which,  as  I  have  said,  over- 
hung the  park,  and  only  saying  "  This,  then,  is  my 
choice!"  I  suddenly  leaped  therefrom  and  shot  for- 
ward, with  the  speed  of  a  shaft  set  free  from  the  bow- 
string. 

Although  it  was  my  good  hap  to  make  mine  escape 
in  the  heavy  mist  of  a  November  morning,  which 
covered  the  way  I  took,  yet  might  I  eftsoons  hear 
the  loud  shouting  and  heavy  tread  of  my  pursuer  and 
his  followers  ;  so  that  I  was  full  fain  hastily  to  return 
towards  the  secret  passage  and  cell  of  the  dead  Vis- 
count, wherein  I  deemed  that  I  had  left  his  body  for 
time  and  for  eternity.  I  well  knew  that  search  Avould 
there  be  vain,  could  I  but  once  gain  an  entrance,  and 
then,  under  the  deep  shadow  of  night,  I  might  come 
forth  xmseen  and  hasten  my  flight  unto  the  sea-coast 
or  London ;  for  my  royal  sire  had  long  since  told  me, 
that  fugitives  be  safer  in  a  crowded  city  than  in  soli- 
tude. 1  ran  with  much  haste,  yet,  from  often  slipping 
upon  the  grass  that  was  wet  with  the  mist  and  dew, 
my  pursuers  gained  fast  upon  me ;  and  being  without 
breath  to  utter  either  a  cry  or  a  vow  unto  any  of  the 
holy  Saints  to  aid  me,  I  well  nigh  deemed  that  all  was 
lost.  Nevertheless  I  still  kept  forward  with  unslack- 
ened  speed,  albeit  I  could  see  the  forms  of  them  that 
followed  me  hastily  coming  on  through  the  fog,  and 
heard  full  near  and  loudly  their  shouts  and  Avhistling 


THK    I^AST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  263 

as  they  called  upon  each  other  to  mark  the  way  in 
which  I  was  running.  At  length,  however,  with 
spent  strength  and  lost  breath,  I  suddenly  plunged  me 
into  the  mouth  of  that  hidden  passage  and  vanished 
from  the  sight  of  my  pursuers,  whose  hasty  footsteps 
I  soon  marked  approaching ;  and  I  might  hear  them, 
and  specially  Bernard,  profanely  swear  by  the  Mass 
that  they  had  missed  me,  they  knew  not  how,  for 
that  I  took  that  way  and  then  disappeared  like  Friar 
Rush :  but  they  added,  moreover,  that  though  the 
Fiend  himself  were  to  aid  me,  I  should  not  'scape 
them  so ;  for  that  the  park  should  be  closely  watched 
day  and  night,  the  gate  locked  and  guarded,  and  the 
roads  around  planted  with  those  who  should  soon 
stop  my  travelling  thence. 

As  the  somid  of  their  voices  died  away  upon  mine 
ear,  I  went  back  unto  the  cell,  in  much  sadness  for 
the  loss  of  the  only  friends  Avhich  I  possessed  on  earth. 
Israel  of  Castile  being  now  a  banished  beggar,  Sir 
Gilbert  De  IMountford  and  Master  St.  Leger  cut  off 
upon  a  bloody  scaffold,  and  the  last  and  noblest  re- 
lique  of  King  Richard,  was  already  a  black  and  stif- 
fened corse  before  me.  There  he  sate,  so  solemn,  yet 
so  calm,  in  the  very  place  of  his  life,  that  I  could  al- 
most have  called  upon  him  to  aid  me  with  his  counsel  in 
that  hour  of  doubt  and  sorrow  ;  and  albeit  I  was  then 
so  young,  and  might  well  have  feared  to  have  been  the 
companion  of  a  dead  corse  in  that  gloomy  vault,  yet 
did  the  thought  that  mine  own  life  hung  by  so  frail  a 


264      THK  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGKNKXS. 

tye,  keep  my  heart  from  all  other  terrors.  I  there- 
fore sate  sad  and  silent,  until  I  bethought  me  of  send- 
ing up  my  prayers  for  mine  own  deliverance,  blended 
with  mine  orisons  for  the  timely-departed  soul  of  the 
Lord  Level ;  in  doing  whereof  my  tranquillity  and 
strength  returned,  and  I  waited  full  patiently  for  the 
hour  which  should  give  me  back  unto  freedom. 

That  night,  as  I  do  well  remember  me,  came  down 
heavily,  yet  did  I  linger  xnitil  the  welkin  was  covered 
with  darkness,  ere  I  left  the  funeral  cell  for  the  last 
time,  and  quickly  and  cautiovisly  closed  up  it's  nar- 
row outer  entrance   in  such  wise  as  it  might  never 
be  suspected  by  mortal  man,  by  breaking  down  the 
earth  into  it  with  my  sword  ;  well  knowing  that  the 
other  end  was  past  any  discovery.     Thus,  with  a  sad 
heart,  I   bade  farewell  unto  the  mouldering  dust  of 
the    noble  Lord  Lovel,  and   betook   myself    unto  a 
desolate  part  of  the  park  which  overlooked  a  narrow 
and  lonely  country  lane.     Yet  was  not  mine  escape 
thence  effected  without  much  hazard,  since  I  might 
often  hear  the  heavy  tread  or  low  voice  of  the  night- 
watching   guards  who  were  set  to  intercept  me,  as 
they  marched  about  between  the  shaking  trees  and 
over  the  dark  underwoods,  humming    as  they  best 
might,  some  rude  ballad  of  battle   foughten  in  the 
days  of  the  olden   time.     Howbeit,  as   1   now  well 
knew  the  place   which   I    was  traversing,   I  warily 
passed  them  by,  and  at  length  got  me  clear  of  the 
boundaries  of  Minster-Lovel. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  205 

After  crossing  divers  wild  fields  and  passing  through 
many  dark  lanes,  towards  the  break  of  day  I  heard 
the  heavy  and  stately  bent  of  a  drum  sounding  forth 
the  slow  old  English  march ;  and  anon  I  found  me 
near  a  little  hostel,  about  which  some  dozen  soldiers, 
but  scantily  clothed  and  armed,  were  gathered,  as  if 
rousing  them  after  the  night-halt  and  making  them 
ready  for  the  day's  travel.  I  sought  to  pass  them  by 
unnoted,  but  he  who  seemed  to  be  the  Constable, 
or  leader  thereof,  having  already  marked  me,  loudly 
called  unto  me  with  "  Holla  !  comrade,  what  may 
you  be,  and  whither  away  so  early  ?" 

I  answered  unto  him  with  my  safest  and  truest 
reply,  that  I  was  the  orphan  son  of  a  soldier  who  was 
slain  at  Bosworth,  and  was  then  travelling  in  search 
of  entertainment  and  employ. 

"  Then  if  you  lack  these,"  responded  the  Constable, 
"by  the  sword  of  St.  Paul !  you're  in  good  luck  ;  for 
here  you  may  have  both,  as  you  seem  a  stout  young 
stripling  and  a  soldier's  son.  But.  be  you  what  you 
may,  I  trow  that  here's  a  safe  sanctuary  for  you,  whe- 
ther you  are  flying  from  the  claw  of  the  sergeant  or 
the  Bishop's  sompnour;  and  whether  you  were  bred 
to  the  cart  or  the  cloister,  only  mount  helm  and  spear 
and  you're  made  gentle  at  once,  being  upon  the  liigh 
road  to  fortune,  full  soon  to  become  either  a  Knight 
or  a  Noble!" 

"  And  whose  quarrel  must  I  draw  sword  in  ?" 
demanded  I. 


266       THK  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

"  Why,  in  no  less  an  one,"  answered  the  leader, 
"than  that  of  Francis  the  Second,  the  most  noble 
Duke  of  Bretagne,  against  Charles  of  France.  For 
ye  shall  wot,  my  brave  comrade,  that  Edward,  Lord 
Widvile,  the  Queen's  uncle,  is  leading  forth  a  goodly 
party  of  voluntaries  unto  his  aid ;  the  main  body 
whereof  hath  marched  on  before  towards  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  where  we  take  shipping.  And  now,  my  mates, 
don  your  arms,  and  make  you  all  ready  for  setting 
forth  with  what  haste  you  may,  whilst  I  give  our  new 
fellow  a  stout  breakfast  to  make  him  march  the  bet- 
ter. By  the  Bones  ! "  continued  the  prating  Soldier, 
drawing  me  with  him  into  the  hostel,  "  Fore  God  ! 
brother,  but  you're  in  excellent  luck  to  have  lighted 
upon  us  thus  :  since  in  another  hour  we  should  have 
been  upon  our  travel,  and  within  five  days  upon  the 
seas ;  when  yon  would  have  lost  the  good  tide  which 
now  floweth  so  fairly  onward  unto  your  fortune." 

Thereupon  I  entered  the  hostel  with  the  Constable, 
not  for  that  I  trusted  aught  unto  his  glosing  words  or 
mighty  promises,  or  deemed  that  I  should  escape  the 
many  pains  and  sorrows  of  a  soldier's  life,  but  be- 
cause I  saw  that  by  following  the  Lord  Widvile  over 
the  seas,  I  should  be  well  removed  from  mine  enemies, 
and  might  peradventure  get  me  unto  the  Duchess 
IMargaret  of  Bui'gundy,  who  was  the  friend  of  my 
House,  and  so  arrive  at  some  better  fortune.  With  these 
thoughts,  I  say,  I  went  with  the  Constable  into  the 
hostel ;  where,  after  having  well  fed  and  strengthened 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  2(57 

me,  I  did  engage  to  serve  in  that  cause  as  a  voluntary 
in  France,  for  so  long  as  there  should  be  war  there,  to 
be  found  in  horse  and  arms,  with  four -pence  by  the 
day  in  sterling-money. 

The  chiefest  passages  of  that  war  between  France 
and  Bretagne,  be  conserved  as  great  and  public  mat- 
ters, which  enter  not  into  the  story  of  my  life,  and 
so  ask  but  small  recital  in  this  place.  Whilst  I  served 
under  the  Lord  Widvile,  I  was  fain  to  keep  secret  not 
only  my  lofty  birth,  but  also  my  favour  unto  King 
Richard,  because  of  the  hate  in  which  he  was  held 
by  that  Noble,  for  having  put  to  death  his  nephew 
Anthony,  and  divers  others  o£  his  House  and  party, 
for  treason.  Howbeit,  the  Lord  Widvile  himself  was 
not  long  my  leader,  for  upon  his  marching  imto  the 
relief  of  St.  Aubin  du  Cormier,  all  the  power  of 
France  advanced  against  him  under  Louis  de  Tre- 
mouille,  and  the  two  armies  might  not  part  without 
doing  battle.  This,  therefore,  did  we  fight  on  Mon- 
day, the  28th  day  of  July,  in  the  year  of  Christ  1488, 
and  a  most  fatal  time  did  it  prove  ;  for  the  Lord  "Wid- 
vile, and  the  most  part  of  the  four  hundred  English 
which  he  had  led  into  Bretagne,  were  slain,  with 
6000  Bretons  and  full  1200  of  the  French.  I  scaped 
from  the  field,  sorrowful  and  wounded  ;  yet  lingered  I 
still  in  Bretagne,  as  the  soldier  of  the  Lady  Anne, 
the  young  Duchess  thereof,  until  tlie  war  between 
her  state  and  the  realm  of  France  was  at  length  cun- 
ningly ended,  by  her  becoming  the  Queen  of  Charles 


208  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    TLANTAGENETS. 

VI I r.  in  the  year  1491.  The  King  won  over  her 
counsellors  to  consent  thereunto^  by  weighty  bribes 
and  goodly  promises  ;  and  herself  by  importunity  and 
terror,  for  that  she  well  saw  she  must  be  either  liis 
wife  or  his  captive.  Whilst  speaking  of  them^  I  may 
note  in  this  place,  that  Charles  was  a  well-formed 
man,  though  somewhat  short,  and  of  a  fair  face,  yet 
having  large  strong  features  and  dark  hair :  the 
Duchess  Anne  was  a  young  maiden  of  good  stature 
and  comely  visage,  and  she  was  wont  to  be  clad  in  a 
vest  of  azure  velvet  and  white  ermine-skin  powdered, 
with  a  robe  of  red  velvet  over  all. 

This  time  passed,  I  did  next  betake  me  unto  the  bold 
and  noble  Lady  Margaret  of  York,  the  third  wife  of 
Charles  the  Hardy,  the  last  French  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
and  sister  unto  my  royal  father  ;  with  whom  I  found 
right  good  entertainment  and  favour.  She  was  one 
who  ever  sought  to  magnify  and  advance  her  own 
House,  yet  did  I  never  declare  my  kindred  unto  her ; 
albeit  she  made  me  one  of  the  chief  of  that  guard 
which  alway  attended  upon  her  person,  being  all 
men  of  gentle  birth, — and  though  she  was  wont  often 
to  employ  me  in  private  services,  familiarly  calling 
me  Cousin,  and  saying  that  I  had  somewhat  of  the 
look  of  a  Plantagenet,  and  specially  the  very  trick 
of  her  brother  Richard's  visage.  Butnatheless  I  dis- 
closed not  unto  her  the  truth,  for  that  I  marked  her 
to  be  beguiled  with  one  Perkin  Warbeck,  the  offspring 
of  a  Merchant,  whom  she  cunningly  tutored  to  person- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKT3.  2G9 

ate  Richard,  Duke  of  York,  the  second  son  of  her 
brother  King  Edward  IV.  ;  and  so  sent  him  unto 
England,  where  he  was  well  received  and  his  tale  be- 
lieved of  many,  and  for  a  long  space  he  kept  the  realm 
in  tumult.  This  was,  as  I  now  think,  about  Novem- 
ber, in  the  year  of  Grace  1492,  but  I  leave  it  unto 
story  to  recount  his  adventures  ;  only  noting  that  he 
uttered  divers  foul  and  false  1  casings  against  my  fa- 
ther, affirming  him  to  have  murdered  the  young  King 
Edward  V.  in  the  Tower,  some  seven  years  before, 
when  himself  most  wondrously  escaped  the  like  fate, 
albeit  he  could  neither  declare  how,  nor  even  in  what 
nation,  he  had  passed  that  time.  Yet  being,  as  he  was, 
of  good  presence  and  features,  and  fair-spoken  withal, 
he  satisfied  the  demands  of  many  who  rose  up  in  arms 
and  followed  his  fortunes  ;  and  these  were  not  of  the 
common  sort  only,  but  divers  noble  and  worshipful 
men  believed  and  affirmed  his  pretences  to  be  true. 
But  though  some  of  his  aiders  thought  thus,  others 
befriended  him  only  from  discontent  at  Harry  Tudor, 
who,  as  they  deemed,  had  not  largely  enough  rewarded 
them  ;  and  others  again  from  a  base  desire  to  prosper 
by  tumult  and  by  spoil.  Howbeit,  all  this  time  my 
truer  and  fairer  claim  to  be  a  King, — as  I  then  thought 
it — was  left  unminded  of  any;  and  I  felt  much  mis- 
liking  and  jealousy,  that  a  low-born  adventurer  was 
thus  again  preferred  unto  the  real  son  of  a  Sovereign  : 
thougli,  perchance,  that  very  neglect  saved  me  from 
the    defeat     and    disgrace   of    Warbeck,    his    flight. 


270      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

imprisonment,  and  other  sorrows,   tlie    winch    were 
ended  only  by  the  axe  and  the  scaffold. 

It  chanced  that;,  about  this  season,  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  certain  of  the  cunning  artists,  who  had 
aided  in  rearing  those  stately  buildings  in  the  realm 
of  Burgundy,  which  have  been  imitated  in  divers  fine 
and  curious  palaces  erected  in  England.*  Truly,  I 
think  that  the  world  cannot  shew  more  gorgeous  or 
princely  fabrics,  than  those  set  up  under  the  rule  of 
Philip  the  Good,  Duke  of  Burgvmdy,  and  specially  his 
own  palace  at  Dijon  ;  wherein  the  dark,  and  rude,  and 
lowering  walls  of  the  embattled  castle,  or  lofty  watch- 


*  The  highly  ornamented  style  of  Domestic  Architecture 
which  is  considered  as  characteristic  of  the  Tudor  period,  was 
certainly  derived  from  the  very  rich  edifices  erected  under  the 
patronage  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  ahove-mentioned,  between 
the  years  1419  and  1467  ;  fine  examples  of  which  are  to  be 
found  in  the  Maison  de  la  Pucelle  and  the  Hall  of  Justice  at 
Rouen,  and  similar  edifices  at  Bruxelles,  Ghent,  and  Bruges. 
Mansions  of  this  character, — wherein  the  features  of  the  old 
gloomy  castle  were  enriched  and  blended  with  a  more  statelv 
and  convenient  style  of  building, — were  erected  in  England  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  YI ;  but  perhaps  a  more  splendid  instance 
was  given  in  tlie  ro^'al  palace  of  Sheen  built  by  Henry  YII., 
after  a  fire  there  in  1500,  to  which  he  gave  his  own  title  of 
Richmond.  It  is  related  by  Speed  that  the  "  curious  and 
exquisite  building"  both  of  this  place  and  of  his  Chapel  at 
Westminster,  were  first  learned  by  himself  and  Richard  Fox, 
Bisliop  of  Winchester,  in  France,  and  thence  brought  into 
England. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  271 

tower,  fitted  only  for  scenes  of  strife  or  blood,  were 
lost  in  the  richly-wrought  turret,  the  gay  window  and 
gallery  full  rarely  carved,  and  the  broad  and  stately 
gateway ;  forming  most  glorious  pleasances  for  the 
court,  the  triumph,  the  tourney,  and  the  masque.  After 
this  manner,  then,  did  I  learn  much  of  the  art  of  build- 
ing goodly  mansions,  the  which  in  my  later  years  hath 
been  of  great  benefit  unto  me ;  and  hath  even  pro- 
vided me  with  a  home  and  a  retreat,  when  all  other 
shelters  have  failed  me  in  mine  old  affe. 

Havinglong  outlived  Duke  Charles  of  Burgimdy,the 
noble  Lady  ]Mai-garet  at  length  departed  this  life  and 
went  unto  God,  at  her  Seignory  of  JMalines  in  Brabant, 
in  the  year  1503.  But  ere  she  died,  she  caused  me  to 
be  called  unto  her  chamber ;  and  saying  that  I  had 
been  unto  her  a  true  and  faithful  soldier,  and  foras- 
much as  that  I  was  of  her  own  country,  and,  as  she 
verily  thought,  her  kinsman, — holding  me,  peradven- 
ture,  to  be  some  natural  son  of  King  Richard, — she 
wovdd  entrust  unto  me  certain  rich  jewels,  for  the 
fulfilment  of  her  last  desires  in  England ;  the  v.hich 
she  prayed  me  rightly  to  perform  as  I  would  prosper 
me  in  this  world  and  the  next.  Hereupon  I  promised 
her  true  service,  and  she  commanded  me  to  take  her  co- 
ronet of  gold  and  gems  unto  the  Chapel  of  the  Virgin, 
St.  George,  and  St.  Edward,  at  Windsor,  wherein  lay 
the  body  of  her  royal  brother,  King  Edward  IV.,  and 
give  it  unto  the  Brethren  there,  in  guerdon  for  divers 
masses  to  be  said  for  the  health  of  both  their  souls. 


272  THK     LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

Unto  the  Lady  ElizabetJi,  his  Queen,  at  Bermondsey 
Abbey :,  she  bequeathed  her  red  velvet  robe  'broidered 
with  golden  broom-flowers,  being  the  Plantagenet 
badge ;  together  with  a  tablet  of  chased  gold  wrought 
with  the  Visitation  of  the  Virgin  unto  St.  Elizabeth ; 
and  to  her  dear  kinswoman,  the  Lady  Bride,  the 
Queen's  daughter,  she  gave  a  golden  bridal  collar 
for  her  neck,  with  precious  stones  hanging  thereat, 
and  a  pair  of  pater-nosters  of  coral  and  silver.  The 
noble  Duchess  did  also  farther  devise  unto  the  high- 
altar  of  the  Grey-Friars'  Church  at  Leicestei*,  where 
the  corse  of  King  Richard  had  been  so  rudely  sepul- 
tured,  a  chain  of  gold  enamelled  in  ancient  wise,  hav- 
ing the  name  of  God  upon  every  link;  for  daily  prayers 
for  the  health  of  her  own  soul  and  that  of  her  royal 
brother.  In  brief,  she  bestowed  divers  other  rich 
and  costly  gifts,  for  masses  to  be  sung  for  herself  and 
those  of  her  House  who  were  deceased,  in  every  place 
where  they  were  sepultured ;  and  unto  myself  she 
gave  fifty  marks  of  gold, — £33.  6s.  Sd. — for  seeing  that 
her  will  herein  was  duly  fulfilled.  She  did  then  give 
unto  me  her  discharge  from  all  other  earthly  service 
that  I  owed  unto  her,  and  I  left  her  with  divers  as- 
surances of  fidelity  ;  not  without  much  sadness  and 
heaviness  of  heart,  but  I  had  now  seen  so  many  who 
had  befriended  me  gradually  pass  away  from  me  into 
the  devouring  grave,  that  by  this  time  I  was  well 
nigh  steeled  against  any  new  touch  of  such  calamity. 
Thus  died  the  gallant  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  much 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  273 

to  the  joy  of  Harry  Tudor  ;  unto  whom  the  flattering 
followers  of  Lancaster  were  wont  to  say  she  was  as 
Juno  of  old  was  unto  the  wandering  Prince  Mneas, 
moving  heaven  and  earth  against  him,*  as  Virgilius 
hath  full  sweetly  written — "  Anna  viriimque  cano," 
which  every  scholar  knoweth ;  or  in  our  ruder  English 

"  Arms  be  my  song,  and  him  whom  Heaven's  decree 
Drave  from  the  Troian  coasts  to  Italic ; 
Who,  ere  he  reach'd  the  fair  Lavinian  strand, 
Long  space  was  toss'd  o'er  ocean  and  on  land 
By  the  great  Powers  who  rule  supreme  above, 
And  chief  by  Juno,  angry  Queen  of  Jove  ; 
Whose  rage  relentless  him  pursued  afar 
With  vengeful  storms,  with  foemen,  and  with  war  !" 

Howbeit,  though  Henry  of  Lancaster  was  thus 
likened  unto  Mneas,  yet  might  I  never  note  the  sem- 
blance betwixt  them  ;  for  that  the  Troian  Prince  was 
both  pious  and  noble,  whereas  he  of  the  Red  Rose 
was  only  a  simular  of  virtue,  exceeding  artful,  and 
all  devoted  unto  covetise  and  oppressive  gathering 
of  riches. 

I  have  but  little  more  to  add  of  my  long  sojourn 
and  exile  in  France, — when  I  have  noted  that  I  saw 
the  body  of  the  Lady  INLargaret  sepultured  in  the 
Church  of  the  Cordeliers  in  Malines,  and  returned 


"  This  circumstance  is  also  related  by  Bernard  Andreas,  the 
contemporary  Historian  of  Henry  VII. 

T 


274  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

into  Burgundy,  to  receive  those  goods  which  she  had 
devoted  unto  holy  works  in  England ;  after  whicli 
I  journied  hither  to  perform  her  will.  At  length, 
about  the  beginning  of  April,  in  1503,  I  left  Bur- 
gundy, and  travelled  with  what  haste  T  might  unto 
Harfleur,  whence  I  forthwith  set  sail  and  landed  me 
at  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  it  being  now  fifteen  years  since 
I  had  last  left  it  for  Bretagne,  with  the  army  of  the 
hapless  Lord  Widvile. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THK    soldier's    return,    AND    FIRST    ADVENTURE    IN 

ENGLAND. 

—As  he  entered  the  Church— he  bc-held  her  alone  in  tlic  midst  of  the  aisle 
prostrate  upon  Euphrasia's  Tomb.  The  piety,  the  gratitude  of  Olyinpia,  tlie 
sanctity  of  the  place— and  the  n  collection  of  past  times,  to  which  these  cir- 
cumstances gave  birth,  made  a  powerful  impression  upon  the  heart  of  Theo- 
philus.  He  advanced  towards  01ymi)ia ;  the  sound  of  his  feet  drew  her  atten- 
tion, and  she  turned  her  face  bathed  in  tears  to  see  who  it  was.  Theophilus 
approached  and  knelt  beside  her— and  she  beheld  him  with  astonishment. 

y 

Mad.  De  Genlis'  Veillees  Du  Chateau. 

Thus  did  I  once  more  spring  upon  the  shores  of  my 
native  country  with  a  warm  and  joyful  heart ;  for 
albeit  in  mine  exile  I  had  seen  the  red  vineyards  of 
Burgundy,  and  felt  the  warm  suns  of  Languedoc, 
and  heard  the  gentle  speecli  of  Paris  and  the  Court 
of  King  Charles, — yet  did  I  ever  think  tliat  in  mine 
own  land  the  yellow  cornfields  looked  more  plenteous, 
the  colder  skies  more  healthful,  and  my  countrymen 
more  artless  and  virtuous,  though  of  blunter  manners 
and  ruder  speech.  It  was  now  a  season  of  peace  and 
prosperity — excepting  the  exactions  of  Harry  Tudor, 
— throughout  the  realm;  which  seemed, as  it  were  rest- 


270  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

ing  and  reviving  from  the  wars  and  tumults  where- 
with it  had  long  been  disquieted,  even  by  the  very 
children  of  the  soil  and  the  foes  of  it's  own  house- 
hold which  are  ever  the  worst :  and  I  bethought  me, 
as  I  looked  vipon  this  tranquillity,  of  those  rude  old 
verses  of  the  ancient  Chronicler  written  now  some 
two  hundred  years  past,  wherein  he  saith, — 

"  England  is  a  well  good  land  !  I  ween  of  each  land  best ! 
Set  in  the  ending  of  the  world,  all  in  the  healthful  West ; 
The  blue  sea  goeth  him  about,  he  standeth  like  an  isle, 
And  little  may  his  foemen  dare  unless  it  be  with  guile  !"* 

And  now  with  all  speed  I  hastened  me  unto  the 
Chapel  at  Windsor,  where  King  Edward  lay ;  to  per- 
form the  will  of  the  Lady  Margaret  there,  that  place 
being  first  and  chiefest  in  my  road.  I  reached  there- 
unto about  the  hour  of  Nones,  on  the  third  of  the 
Calends  of  May,  being  Saturday,  the  twenty-ninth 
day  of  April,  and  the  birth-day  of  the  noble  King 


*  The  above  verses,  very  slightly  modernised,  are  taken 
from  the  commencement  of  Robert  of  Gloucester's  metrical 
Chronicle  of  England ;  the  author  of  which  is  supposed  to 
have  been  a  Monk  of  Gloucester  Abbey,  sent  to  reside  at  Ox- 
ford  with  the  youth  there  belonging  to  that  church.  His  real 
name  is  not  known,  but  he  is  believed  to  have  flourished  and 
died  about  A.D.  1280,  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Edward 
I.;  and  consequently  to  have  been  one  of  the  earliest  poets 
of  England. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  277 

Edward  IV.,   who  was   a  great  benefactor  unto  the 
Castle  and  Chapel  of  Windsor ;  and  for  the  health  of 
whose   soul  I   devoutly  joined  the   good  Canons  in 
those  prayers,  which  our  Church  hath  appointed  to 
be  said  on  the  Anniversary  of  a  Patron  deceased. — 
The  Brethren  received  me  with  wondrous  goodwill, 
and  constrained  me  to  lodge  that  night  in  their  Col- 
lege; though,  perchance,  part  of  their  courtesy  might 
spring  from   the  costly  gift  which  I  brought  them, 
and  from  my  gallant  habit  as  the  Duchess  of  Bur- 
gundy's soldier  ;   being  a  bright  suit  of  plate-armour, 
a  blue  velvet  jazerine  surcoat,  and  a  sword  and  dag- 
ger in  red  scabbards.      When  that  our  devotions  were 
ended,  the  Sacristan  led  me  to  behold  that  most  mar- 
vellous and  princely  Chapel ;  shewing  me  the  stalls  and 
banners  of  the  famous  Knights  of  the  Garter,   the 
high-altar  covered   with  a   rich  black  cloth-of-gold, 
given   thereunto   by   the    victorious    Founder    King 
Edward  III.,  and  the  fair  tombs  of  such  as  had  been 
buried  in  that  place. 

Of  all  these  sepulchres  I  well  wot  that  the  one 
reared  over  the  corse  of  the  royal  Edward  of  York, 
was  the  most  noble  and  stately.  It  standeth  in  an 
arch  close  on  the  North  side  of  the  high-altar,  and  is 
wrought  in  wondrous  wise  of  pierced  church-work, 
being  all  of  polished  steel  gilded,  and  made  after  the 
semblance  of  folding  gates  between  four  towers.  The 
body  lieth  within,  beneath  a  pavement  of  touch- 
stone ;  and  above  it,  is  the  King's  jupon  of  his  coat- 


27B  THK    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

armour,  covered  with  blue  and  crimson  velvet,  with 
the  ensigns  of  France  and  England  'broidered  there- 
on in  pearl  and  gold,  interwoven  with  divers  rubies  ; 
the  which  trophy  of  honour  hath,  ever  since  his 
funeral,  been  hung  over  his  grave. 

The  sacred  calm  and  silence,  and  the  holy  gran- 
deur of  that  spot,  seemed    to   bring   back   unto  my 
mind  those  days  when  my  young  feet  were  wont  to 
wander  in  the  Cathedral  at  Ely,  or  around  my  father's 
tomb  in  the  Church  of  the  Grey-Friars  at  Leicester  ; 
and  towards  the  close  of  day  I  again  went  alone  into 
the  chancel,  telling  the  good  Custos,  or  Decanus  as  he 
is  now  called,  Christopher  Urswicke,  that  I  would  fain 
pray  awhile  in  secret  on  that    evening,  since  early  on 
the  morrow  I  must   hasten  forward  on  my  journey. 
It  was  then,  enwrapped  in  thought,  that  I  drew  nigh 
unto  the  royal  tomb  by  the  high-altar,  and,  kneeling 
there,  prayed  audibly  unto   God  and  the  Virgin  for 
the  salvation  of  all  my  House  ;  and  specially  for  King 
Edward,  the  Duchess  IMargaret,  my  noble  cousin  the 
Lady  Bride  Plantagenet,  and  King  Richard,  whom  I 
called  my  father.     As  these  orisons  escaped  from  my 
lips,  I  heard  a  gentle  voice  near  me  exclaim  "  Holy 
St.  Edward ! — my  cousin,  and  the  son  of  King  Ricli- 
ard !"    whereupon   I    started,    and,   looking  around, 
beheld  that  a  leaf  of  one  of  the  gilded  gates   of  King 
Edward's   tomb    was  open,  and  that   within    was  a 
Maiden  seeming  also  to  be  in  prayer.     She  was  clothed 
in  a  white  habit,  such  as  was  worn  by  Novices  of  the 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  279 

Order  of  St.  Austin,  and  the  fading  light  was  yet 
enough  to  shew  me  that  it  was  indeed  no  other  than 
the  Lady  Bride  at  her  father's  sepulchre  ;  now  most 
wondrously  increased  both  in  beauty  and  in  stature 
since  I  had  last  beheld  her. 

Hereupon  I  hastily  arose  in  much  confusion,  but  as 
she  was  about  to  depart,  I  noted  that  in  her  surprise 
her  rosary  had  fallen  from  her  hand,  and  I  forthwith 
entered  the  tomb  and  restored  it  unto  her ;  saying, 
albeit  with  a  hesitating  voice,  "  Believe  not,  Lady, 
that  I  knew  of  your  presence  in  this  place,  or  came 
hither  to  trespass  on  your  secret  prayers  and  duteous 
piety.  Indeed  you  may  well  deem  that  what  I  have 
now  uttered  is  not  to  be  spoken  lightly,  seeing  that 
mine  own  safety  is  so  much  involved  therein  :  never- 
theless, I  rest  me  securely  upon  the  good  faith  of 
the  Lady  Bride  Plantagenet." 

"Sti-anger,"  responded  she,  hastily  drawing  her 
robe  around  her,  as  if  anxious  to  avoid  a  more  per- 
fect recognition  on  my  part,  and  yet  speaking  in  a 
voice  so  sweet  and  gentle  that  it  came  upon  mine 
hearing  like  the  soft  swellings  of  distant  music ; — 
"  Stranger,  you  have  in  sooth  awakened  my  wonder  : 
yet  whoever  you  may  be,  whether  another  false  adven- 
turer from  Burgundy,  or  the  true  son  of  the  blood- 
stained Richard,  your  words  Avith  me  are  as  if  they 
had  never  been  spoken  ;  since  I  have  neither  desire 
to  expose  thee  unto  danger,  nor  aught  to  do  with  the 
world  or  it's  vain-glorious  honours." 


280      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

As  she  spake  thus,   her   visage  became  suddenly 
crimsoned  over,  yet.  was  it  but  for  a  moment,  as  anon 
her  pure  and  eloquent  blood  flowed  onward  in  it's 
wonted  course,  and  her  face  resumed  again  it's  tran- 
quil fairness ;  such  as  the  still  lake  shews  unto  hea- 
ven, when  the  passing  gale  hath  gone  by,  and  the 
light  ruffle  which  it  called  forth  hath  died  upon  the 
clear   waters.     When  I    last    saw   the   Lady    Bride, 
there  w  as  much  of  the  glad  look  of  childhood  in  her 
bright  blue  eyes,  and  the  rich  abundance  of  her  hair 
of  paly  gold  ;  and  those  golden  locks  did  still  remain 
even  more  beauteous  than  before,  but  methought  that 
her    merry   glance   was   now    shaded    by  a  musing 
melancholy,  which  shall  be  full  rarely  noted  in  the 
countenance  of  one  so  young.     Having  awhile  marked 
her  in  silence,  listening  with  wondrous  delight  unto 
her  voice,  I  now  assayed  to  answer  her ;  telling  her, 
that  albeit  I  was  indeed  from   Burgundy,  and  even 
from  her  noble  kinswoman  the  late  Duchess,  yet  was 
I    no  false  adventurer   who    sought  to  disquiet   the 
realm,  nor  was  my  noble  father  aught  of  that  which 
the  world  was   wont  to  call  him,     I  then  told  her  of 
the  Lady  Margaret's  decease,  of  her  mission  which 
had  brought  me  unto  England,  and  specially  of  that 
touching   the   good    Queen    Elizabeth   and   herself; 
wherein^  I  added,  I  could  not  but  rejoice,  since  it 
would  lead  me  again  to  hear  the  voice  of  one  who  was 
so  passing  fair. 

"  I  pray  you,  good  stranger,"    replied  the  noble 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  281 

Damsel,  "  I  pray  you  to  cease  this  flattery  ;  for,  sooth 
to  say,  I  am  alway  but  little  minded  to  listen  unto 
such  speech,  but  at  no  time  less  than  this ;  seeing 
the  sacredness  of  the  place  wherein  we  stand,  and  the 
sorrow  which  must  be  in  the  heart  of  an  orphan,  who 
walketh  over  all  that  is  mortal  of  both  her  parents." 

"  Blessed  Virgin  !"  exclaimed  I  in  wonder,  "  of 
both.  Lady  !  said'st  thou  of  both  ?" 

"■  Aye,  stranger,"  answered  she,  "  that  did  I  in  sooth, 
for  the  good  Queen  Elizabeth  is  stretched  beside 
her  Lord  in  this  sepulchre,  dying  at  the  Abbey  of  Ber- 
mondsey  :  unto  whose  souls  may  God  be  gracious  !" 

"  Then,  Lady,"  responded  I,  "unto  you  belong  all 
the  gifts  of  the  noble  Duchess,  which  should  have 
been  possessed  by  your  royal  mother,  the  'broidered 
velvet  robe  and  the  golden  tablet  of  St.  Elizabeth  ; 
together  with  the  bequests  which  she  sendeth  unto 
yourself,  a  bridal  collar  of  gold  and  gems,  and  a 
rosary  of  coral  and  silver." 

"  I  trust,  that  the  good  Duchess  is  in  Paradise  !" 
said  the  Lady  Bride,  looking  upwards  as  inethought 
w  ith  a  heavenly  glance,  "  but  her  gifts,  saving  the 
tablet  and  the  rosary,  are  not  for  me  ;  since  pass  but  a 
brief  time  and  I  shall  be  vested  in  a  robe  that  allows 
of  no  other,  and  her  bridal  collar  may  be  never  Avorn 
by  one  who  will  eftsoons  be  conseci*ated  to  the 
kS^I  C  ter  as  the  spouse  of  Christ !" 

"  How  !  Lady,"    again  did  I  exclaim,    "  so  soon  ! 
and  do  you  in  very  truth  retire  from  the  world,  even 


282  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

whiles  you  must  be  the  delight  of  every  heart  and  eye 
which  knoweth  or  beholds  you  ?" 

"  Even  so,"  replied  the  Princess,  "  and  for  this 
cause  am  I  come  hither,  to  say  my  last  orisons,  and 
to  look,  perchance,  for  the  last  time  upon  the  sepul- 
chre of  my  father  and  mother ;  and,  then,  bidding 
farewell  unto  the  world  for  ever,  to  retreat  into  the 
Convent  whereunto  I  have  been  long  vowed  and 
professed,  for  on  St.  Martin's  Eve*  shall  I  receive 
the  veil,  and  begin  my  spiritual  life  even  from  mine 
earthly  birth-day.  You  may  well  see,  then,  cour- 
teous stranger,  that  the  costly  gifts  you  bear  are 
not  for  me ;  yet  if  you  will  bestoAv  them,  here  and  at 
Bermondsey,  for  the  health  of  the  departed  souls  of 
my  House,  I  will  hold  myself  much  your  debtor,  and 
will  cease  not  to  bear  you  long  within  my  memory." 

"  Enough,  most  blessed  Lady  Bride,"  answered  I, 
"  by  the  Cross  of  St.  George,  it  shall  be  done  !  for 
to  live  a  moment  in  your  memory,  is  dearer  unto 
me  than  to  have  shield  and  banner  hung  over  the 
proudest  of  yonder  stalls.     But  for  thee.  Lady,  thou 


*  The  Princess  Bride  was  born  at  Eltham  Palace  on  the  Eve 
of  St.  Martin,  Friday,  November  10th,  1480 ;  and  was  baptised 
in  the  Chapel  there  the  day  following  by  Edward  Story, 
Bishop  of  Chichester.  She  was  professed  to  Dartford  Priory 
early  in  life,  but  was  probably  not  consecrated  before  the  age 
of  twenty -five,  in  the  year  1505,  when  her  birth-day  again  fell 
upon  a  Friday. 


THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS.  283 

hast  been  full  many  yeai-s  hidden  within  the  dearest 
remembrance  of  Richard  Plantagenet,  for  even  before 
he  saw  thee,  thou  wei't  most  wondrously  impictured 
there ;  but  after  bearing  thee  from  the  falling  scaffold 
at  thy  sister's  coronation — " 

"Ha!  what  sayest  thou!"  exclaimed  the  Lady 
Bride  thereunto,  "  was  it  then  thee  to  whom  I  am 
indebted  for  life  ?  Full  often,  indeed,  hath  the  tale 
been  told  me  that  I  was  saved,  perchance  from  death, 
by  a  brave  youth  of  goodly  form  and  courteous  man- 
ners, even  whilst  the  scaffold  fell  beneath  us,  but  who 
afterwards  was  no-where  to  be  found ;  and  oft-times 
have  I  desired  to  behold  my  deliverer.  But  surely  one 
so  brave  and  gentle  as  thou  art,  can  never  be  the  son 
of  so  foul  and  blood-stained  a  tyrant  and  traitor  as 
Richard  !" 

As  she  thus  spake,  I  felt  my  cheek  glow  and  mine 
heart  beat  high  in  defence  of  mine  injured  father, 
whilst  the  mild  speech  and  deportment  of  the  Lady 
Bride  became  lofty  and  impassioned ;  and  though  I 
would  fain  have  declared  unto  her  that  much  wrong 
was  herein  done  unto  his  memory,  ere  I  might  so 
reply  she  continued  thus  in  a  voice  of  indignant  sor- 
row. "  Oh  !  I  may  never  cease  to  forget  how  the 
unnatural  Gloucester,  albeit  he  was  himself  of  the 
House  of  York,  made  his  way  unto  the  crown  even 
through  the  blood  of  his  own  kindred !  Tell  not  me, 
although  thou  mayest  be  indeed  his  son,  —  tell  not  me 
that  he  was  maligned,  whose  dear  and  guileless  bro- 


284  JIIK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

thers  were  given  to  an  untimely  death,  by  him  wlio 
was  called  their  Protector,  as  in  sooth  he  sliould  have 
been.  Oh,  Edward  !  Oh,  Richard  !  beloved  compa- 
nions of  my  childhood  !  when  shall  I  cease  to  remem- 
ber your  most  cruel  fate,  or  to  execrate  the  very  name 
of  him  who  so  foully  wrought  your  ruin  ?" 

"  Lady,"  interposed  I  at  this  place,  much  discon- 
certed between  her  hatred  of  my  father  and  mine  own 
admiration  of  herself,  "  Lady,  I  beseech  you  to 
credit  not  the  slander ;  I  have  heard  him  solemnly 
disavow  the  destruction  of  your  noble  brothers,  and 
Richard  was  all  too  brave  a  King  to  dip  his  hands  in 
innocent  blood :  none  did  ever  yet  deny  his  valour,  and 
remember  you  that  he  who  dares  to  fight,  dares  not 
to  murder.  Believe  it,  the  Princes  fell  by  the  act  of 
God,  or  how  might  my  father  have  gone  forth  so  un- 
dauntedly unto  his  last  battle  as  I  indeed  beheld  him, 
with  so  deep  a  sin  unanswered  upon  his  soul .-'  He 
was  in  truth  no  such  monster  in  his  mind,  nor  yet  de- 
formed in  body  as  some  do  now  unblushingly  aver  ;* 


*  This  passage  appears  to  refer  to  the  contemporary  de- 
sci'iption  of  llichard  contained  in  the  Latin  History  of  the 
Khigs  of  England  by  John  Ilosse  or  llous,  commonly  called 
the  Antiquary  of  Warwick,  who  died  in  1491,  and  from  whom 
Sir  Thomas  More  gave  the  account  already  mentioned.  The 
substance  of  Rosse's  information  is,  that  llichard  was  weak  and 
little  of  body,  low  of  stature,  having  a  short  face,  and  unequal 
shoulders.  Sir  Thomas  More,  Hall  the  Historian,  and  others, 
have  increased  these  circumstances  into  positive  deformity. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  285 

the  whicli,  perchance,  yoti  may  formerly  have  beheld. 
For  mine  own  part,  albeit  I  saw  him  but  in  his  tent 
the  night  before  his  death,  and  in  the  last  agonies 
thereof,  yet  may  his  goodly  form  and  speech,  and  his 
tender  and  noble  bearing,  even  in  those  solemn  mo- 
ments, never  pass  from  my  memory  whilst  life  shall 
be  left  vmto  me ;  and.  Lady,  I  should  deem  myself 
to  be  all  unworthy  of  your  kindred,  were  I  not  wil- 
ling to  defend  by  sword  and  speech  the  name  and 
fame  of  the  brave  King  Richard." 

Hereupon  I  briefly  told  the  Lady  Bride  such  pas- 
sages as  I  knew  of  mine  own  story  ;  as  mine  instruc- 
tion and  breeding  in  Ely  IMonastery,  mine  interview 
with  my  father,  and  his  disclosure  of  my  honour- 
able birth,  and  intended  acknowledgement  thereof, 
with  his  private  marriage  unto  my  mother,  had  he 
not  been  prevented  by  death.  I  did  also  note  unto 
her  that  his  fall  had  been  most  sad,  and  his  re- 
mains treated  with  cruel  despite ;  and  finally  be- 
sought her  to  bury  her  hatred  unto  him  in  his  tomb, 
and  believe  that  his  offspring  was  of  true  heart,  and 
all  devoted  unto  her  service. 

"  In  sooth,  stranger,"  answered  she,  with  a  milder 
and  calmer  air,  "  in  sooth  I  can  almost  well  believe 
that  thou  art  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's  son,  for,  albeit 
I  saw  him  only  in  mine  infancy,  and  so  may  remem- 
ber but  little  of  him  myself,  yet  hath  it  been  told  me 
that  he  was  passing  well-spoken,  and  could  glose  over 
foul  actions  with  wondrous  fair  terms  ;  and  thou,  too. 


280  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

dost  almost  make  the  woi'se  appear  the  better.  His 
death,  as  thou  sayest,  was  indeed  full  sad  ;  yet  was  it 
much  too  good  and  noble  for  him,  if  he  were  truly 
the  cold,  crafty,  midnight,  assassin,  which  men  speak 
him  ; — but  all  is  known  unto  God,  and  to  him  is  he 
now  gone  to  make  answer! — For  thyself  I  know 
nought  but  what  seems  fair,  and  becoming  an  honest 
and  right  good  gentleman  :  yet  honourable  as  thy 
birth  may  be,  I  would  nev^er  see  thee  upon  the  throne 
supported  by  the  House  of  York ;  and  I  bethink  me 
that  it  was  once  reported  that  Sir  Gilbert  De  Mount- 
ford  was  to  bring  forth  a  son  of  Richard  against  King 
Henry." 

Unto  this  I  replied  that  I  held  no  such  ambitious 
or  evil  thoughts,  whatever  the  proud  and  giddy  blood 
of  youth  might  once  have  quickened  within  me ;  that 
Sir  Gilbert  had  long  since  gone  unto  his  account  ; 
and  that  she  might  now  triumph  over  the  fallen 
Richard,  since  her  sister  was  upon  his  throne,  whilst 
himself  and  his  frientls  were  either  outlawed,  exe- 
cuted, or  slain  in  battle,  the  last  of  them  being  an 
obscure  soldier,  whose  life  was  even  then  in  her  power. 

The  face  of  the  noble  Damsel,  which  of  late  had 
changed  full  suddenly  from  calm  and  gentle  piety 
unto  wrath  and  sorrow,  now  resumed  again  it's  wonted 
look,  the  which  I  had  so  long  and  deeply  regarded 
with  delight.  "I  take  unto  me  shame,"  said  she  at 
length,  "  that  anger  should  thus  have  transported  me, 
but  the  thought  of  the  wrongs  and  hapless  fate  of  the 


I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  28/ 

dear  departed  companions  of  mine  infancy,  do  indeed 
make  me  sometimes  forget,  that  the  Faith  of  Christ 
teaches  us  to  forgive  even  our  enemies  and  destroyers. 
Yet  do  I  trust  that  the  day  is  fast  drraving  nigh, 
when,  retired  in  the  cahn  and  holy  shades  of  a  convent, 
consoled  and  instructed  by  the  good  Sisters  who  have 
there  devoted  their  lives  unto  God, — mine  earthly 
thoughts  and  angry  passions  may  sink  to  rest  for 
ever. — God  be  gracious  unto  the  soul  of  my  kinsman 
Gloucester ! — and  for  thee,  kind  stranger,  albeit  I 
would  that  thou  hadst  told  me  of  another  father,  yet, 
for  thy  service  towards  me,  will  I  think  nought  but 
good  of  thee,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  have  cause  to 
remember  thee  without  sin.  Farewell  !  a  virgin 
vowed  unto  Heaven  hath  nought  but  thanks  and 
prayers  to  bestow,  and  they  are  thine  already." 

The  Lady  Bride  then  gave  me  her  hand,  which  I 
put  unto  my  lips  with  much  devotion :  whereupon, 
hastily  drawing  it  from  me,  she  wrapped  herself 
more  closely  in  her  mantle,  and  bending  her  head 
towards  me  with  much  dignity,  went  forth  from  the 
Chapel  by  a  private  portal ;  when  it  seemed  as  if  the 
even-tide  had  suddenly  sunken  down  upon  me  in  all 
it's  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


A     SECOND     INTERVIEAV AN     AVOWAL AND 

A    SEPARATION. 


Slie  came  ! — She  is  gone ! — We  have  met ! 

And  meet — perhaps  never  again  ! 
The  sun  of  that  moment  is  set, — 

And  seems  to  have  risen  in  vain. 

COWPBR. 


I  HAVE  afore  recounted,  that  the  good  Brethren  of 
Windsor  prayed  me  to  tarry  the  coming  night  with 
them,  in  those  fair  stone  dwellings  which  the  noble 
King  Edward  III.  caused  to  be  edified  for  the  Deca- 
nus  and  Canons  of  the  House,  in  the  Lower- Ward  of 
the  Castle,  and  on  the  Eastern  side  of  the  cloister 
adjoining  unto  the  Chapel  of  St.  George.  Beneath 
the  same  roof,  also,  as  I  did  afterwards  find,  the 
Lady  Bride  was  lodged  in  certain  chambers  between 
the  Gunner's  and  Winchester  Towers ;  the  windows 
whereof  looked  unto  the  Inner- Bailey  and  Keep,  and 
overhung  divers  low  wooden  houses  allotted  unto  the 
servitors.  The  good  Decanus  and  his  Canons  would 
fain  have  passed  that  joyful  season, — being  as  I  said 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    TLANTAGENETS.  289 

the  birth-day  of  King  Edwai'd  IV., — in  wassail  and 
revelry,  and  in  discoursing  of  that  which  I  had  seen 
in  France  and  Burgundy ;  and  I  might  well  hear  the 
merry  songs  and  voices  of  the  lacquies  below,  which 
shewed  that  they  were  doing  the  like.  But  beside 
being  now  wearied  with  travel,  the  thought  of  that 
even's  converse  with  the  Lady  Bride,  had  shaded  over 
my  mind  with  a  grave  and  holy  calmness  that  made 
me  care  little  for  any  such  pastime ;  and  seeing, 
therefore,  that  mine  heart  v/as  filled  with  the  che- 
rished remembrance  of  a  scene  so  sad  and  sacred,  I 
was  all  unfit  for  any  other  enjoyment.  For  this  cause, 
therefore,  did  I  soon  entreat  to  go  unto  my  rest,  as  I 
did  think  to  travel  early  upon  the  coming  day. 

The  chamber  wherein  I  was  to  lodge  was  of  little 
space,  having  a  vaulted  roof,  and  a  tall  narrow  win- 
dow that  dimly  showed  the  Chapel-cloister  lying  in 
misty  moonlight  beneath  ;  yet  did  I  take  but  small  note 
of  it's  incommodity,  or  the  night  without,  seeing  that 
it  contained  a  pallet  whereon  I  might  well  rest  me, 
and  ponder  over  the  sweet  and  bitter  thoughts  of  my 
heart.  Upon  this  couch  I  therefore  threw  me,  taking 
off  but  little  of  mine  attire  save  mine  armour,  and 
lay  revolving,  as  I  was  wont  to  do,  the  scenes  of  my 
life  that  had  already  passed,  and  the  xuitried  paths 
through  which  I  had  yet  to  travel.  As  mine  eyes 
began  to  grow  lieavy  and  to  close,  and  the  real  images 
before  them  were  fading  into  those  quaint  and  dim 
forms,  which  they  do  oft  put  on  as  we  sink  into  slum- 

u 


290  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGKNETS. 

ber,  my  rest  was  suddenly  broken  by  a  loud  and  con- 
tinued noise,  which  seemed  to  betoken  much  of  pre- 
sent danger  ;  nevertheless,  when  I  looked  through  the 
window  I  could  behold  nought  of  hazard  in  the  dark 
cloister,  saving  that  divers  persons  were  hastily  pass- 
ing about  it  with  torches  and  loud  cries.  Howbeit, 
I  might  full  soon  hear  the  shout  of  "  Fire !"  and  the 
heavy  and  hasty  toll  of  the  alarum  from  the  Bell- 
Tower  beyond  the  Chapel  on  the  West ;  and  anon  a 
ruddy  glow  rising  upon  the  night-clouds  over  the 
building  wherein  I  was  lodging,  made  me  deem  that 
the  flames  had  broken  out  in  it's  chambers. 

I  will  not  now  seek  to  pourtray  the  wild  disorder 
of  that  place,  which  was  in  truth  greater  than  I  can 
picture  it,  or  how  the  inmates  of  those  lodgings  came 
hastily  from  their  chambers,  all  endeavouring  to  find 
safety  in  escape.  For  mine  own  part  I  made  me  ready 
with  all  speed,  and  went  into  the  gallery  or  passage, 
with  the  purpose  of  retreating  as  the  others  had  done 
already ;  yet  full  desirous  of  seeking  and  saving  the 
Lady  Bride  in  that  hour  of  hazard.  It  was  dark  with- 
out, but  as  I  passed  by  an  open  chamber  on  the  other 
side,  I  beheld  through  the  window  thereof  the  fire 
rising  up  fiercely  from  beneath  as  if  it  would  eftsoons 
assail  that  room.  The  red  light  was  cast  upon  a 
female  in  a  white  habit,  devoutly  kneeling  before  a 
crucifix,  yet  sometimes  looking  silently  around  her, 
although  with  much  anxiety  and  doubt,  as  to  whither 
she  should  turn  for  succour.     I  felt   me  well  assured 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  291 

that  only  the  Lady  Bride  would  be  thus  pious  and 
tranquil  in  a  time  of  such  danger ;  yet  without  regard- 
ing who  she  might  be  in  that  perilous  place,  I  went 
towards  her,  and  accosting  her  with  little  form  of 
speech,  raised  her  in  mine  arms  and  hastily  bore  her 
forth. 

The  fearful  light  which  was  cast  through  lier  win- 
dow, shewed  me  that  it  was  indeed  the  Lady  Bride 
whom  I  now  carried,  but  soon  the  blaze  sank  down 
as  if  it  had  been  somewhat  abated ;  when  she  sud- 
denly started  from  me  and  hastily  withdrew  into  her 
chamber.  I  followed  again  thither,  being  anxious  to 
convey  her  from  that  place  of  hazard,  and  entreated 
of  her  to  secure  her  safety  by  instant  flight  with  me 
unto  some  distant  part  of  the  building;  unto  which 
she  did  at  length  consent,  and,  in  the  disorder  which 
did  then  prevail,  I  led  lier,  unmarked  by  any,  to  the 
stone  chambers  of  the  Canons  on  the  Western  side  of 
the  cloister. 

This  was  scarcely  performed  when  I  heard  divers 
voices,  both  of  men  and  females,  loudly  calling  to 
each  other  to  hasten  and  re-assure  the  Lady  Bride ; 
for  that  the  danger  was  now  past,  and,  peradventure, 
had  been  less  great  than  it  was  at  first  deemed.  Yet  not 
being  wholly  satisfied  hereof,  I  hastened  the  noble 
Blaiden  as  swiftly  as  her  fainting  steps  would  move 
onward,  until  we  had  gotten  some  good  space  from 
that  spot  of  supposed  j)eril,  encouraging  her  on  the 
way  thither  as  I  best  might.     When  at  length  I  saw 


292  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

her  in  safety,  I  said  unto  her,  "  Lady,  be  of  good 
cheer,  all  hazard  is  now  past,  and  I  rejoice  in  having 
been  so  nigh  unto  you  as  to  have  borne  you  there- 
from. Yet  may  I  ask  if  you  indeed  know  me;  or 
are  conscious  that  he  who  now  stands  at  your  side  is 
no  other  than  he  who  hath  so  long  and  deeply 
adored  you  ?" 

"  Right  well,  good  Richard,  did  I  know  you,"  an- 
swered she,  "  even  when  you  first  appeared  in  the 
gallery,  and  all  else  were  seeking  their  own  safety  ; 
but  that  courage  which  delayed  you  to  succour  ano- 
ther, forgetful  of  any  evil  that  might  fall  upon  your- 
self, assured  me  that  my  preserver  could  be  none  but 
he,  who  formerly  so  bravely  adventured  for  me  and 
my  beloved  mother." 

"Oh  Lady!"  answered  I  thereupon,  "much  ho- 
noured and  truly  glad  do  I  feel  me  in  this  hour,  to 
hear  myself,  all  unworthy  as  indeed  I  am,  thus  lauded 
by  one  of  your  surpassing  excellence.  This  is,  in 
truth,  no  time  for  large  discourse,  nor  would  I  boldly 
trespass  on  your  courtesy  ;  yet,  long  as  I  have  reve- 
renced you  and  ever  as  I  must  adore  you,  let  me  say 
that  by  thus  often  bringing  us  together,  may  we  not 
mark  the  hand  of  God  denoting  that  the  course  of  our 
life  should  be  the  same,  and  that  we  were  indeed 
destined  for  each  other  ?" 

"  I  know  not,"  unto  this  responded  the  noble 
Damsel,  "  that  we  ought  therefore  to  deem,  that  what 
hath  been  permitted  by  Heaven  hath  also  been  de- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  293 

creed  by  it :  but  of  this  no  more,  since  such  speech 
is  in  no  wise  befitting  one  to  hear  who  is  already  a 
daughter  of  the  Church,  and  will  soon  be  consecrated 
as  a  pure  virgin  unto  God." 

"Yet,  dearest  Lady,"  answered  I,  "forbid  me  not 
to  feast  upon  the  hope  that  we  are  indeed  destined 
for  each  other's  love,  being  of  one  House  and  of 
equal  blood ;  for  those  whom  God  hath  so  fashioned, 
although  born  in  climes  far  distant  and  parted  by 
strange  diversities  of  condition,  yet  m.eet  at  an  ap- 
pointed place  and  hour  when  their  affections  may  best 
be  blended,  and  ai*e  thenceforth  '  bound  up  in  the  bun- 
dle of  life'  together.  And  of  such.  Lady, — deem  me 
not  too  bold  herein,  for  albeit  I  am  in  truth  of  royal 
line,  I  yet  venture  not  to  think  that  I  can  ever  be 
your  equal, — of  such  would  I  fain  believe  are  we. 
Of  the  same  House,  and  pursued  by  like  storms 
which  have  left  us  orphans  in  a  convulsed  world, 
those  very  tempests,  which  did  seem  only  to  part  us 
for  aye,  have  yet  in  truth  brought  us  together  with- 
out any  devices  of  our  own.  Say,  then,  dearest  Lady 
Bride,  Oh  !  say,  if  we  may  not  well  deem,  without 
folly  or  weakness,  that  wliat  hath  been  so  marvel- 
lously wrought  for  us  is  indeed  the  purpose  of  Hea- 
ven, the  which  we  ought  reverently  to  receive  and  to 
adore." 

"  Cease  to  speak  thus,  stranger,"  responded  the 
Lady  Bride,  "  nor  pour  into  the  ear  of  one  devoted 
unto  the  Lord  these  words  of  earthly  passion.      In 


294  THE     LAST    OF    TlIK    PLANTAGKNETS . 

sooth  I  scarcely  know  what  you  would  utter  ;  yet  do 
I  own  that  all  too  readily  and  sinfully  have  I  listened 
unto  your  words.  I  am  now,  as  it  were,  casting  my  last 
look  abroad  upon  the  world,  and  then  hastening  unto 
that  pious  retreat  wherein  I  shall  behold  it  no  more." 

"  But  thither,"  answered  I,  "  you  will  not  now 
retire,  since  your  Noviciate  hath  not  yet  passed  away  : 
for  as  we  have  again  met  and  have  been  twice  thus 
wondrously  brought  into  communion.  Oh  !  beauteous 
Lady  Bride,  fly  with  me,  I  beseech  you,  and  let  us 
not  part  again." 

"Entreat  me  no  more,"  replied  the  Princess,  "for 
to  act  as  your  passion  would  have  me,  would  be  bvit 
to  fly  from  the  embraces  of  Heaven  itself!  And 
where,  I  pray  you,  should  we  find  safe  retreat  or 
means  of  life  ?  Oh  !  Plantagenet,  if  such  be  in  truth 
your  name,  tempt  me  no  longer  unto  that  Avhich  hath 
no  issue  but  in  ruin." 

"Lady,"  responded  I  therevm to,  most  wondrously 
impassioned  and  emboldened,  "  I  give  you  my  faith 
and  troth  that  I  court  you  not  to  fly  frorn  Heaven 
but  to  it ;  since  Heaven  is  love,  and  mine  I  offer  you 
from  the  inmost  chamber  of  a  brave  and  honest  heart. 
And  for  an  asylum,  well  I  wot  to  find  a  sure  and  fair 
one  with  King  Charles  of  France,  since  he  would 
fain  have  kept  me  in  his  service  when  the  Duchess 
of  Burgundy  deceased.  Think  no  more,  then,  upon 
the  cloister  but  the  altar ;  and  look  not  to  become  a 
sister  but  a  bride." 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  295 

"  Forbear,  thou  kind  })rofane  one,"  returned  the 
Lady,  "I  dare  not  hear  thee  farther,  lest  the  very 
echoes  of  thy  words  should  hereafter  remain  upon 
my  heart,  to  break  in  upon  the  holy  silence  of  religion. 
Cease,  then,  good  friend,  to  press  thy  suit  upon  me, 
and  hold  thy  peace,  if  indeed  tliou  dost  value  mine" 

"Think  not  so  harshly  of  me,"  was  my  answer, 
'*  that  in  any  case  I  would  wound  thy  quiet,  or  lead  thy 
virtuous  heart  unto  aught  but  happiness;  albeit  all 
the  better  feelings  which  Heaven  hath  implanted  in 
man,  do  bid  me  urge  my  prayer  to  thee.  Yet  if  thou 
will  withdraw  thee  from  the  world,  which  will  hence- 
forth be  unto  me  like  a  sunless  sky, — tell  me,  I  pray 
thee,  in  what  Convent  thy  young  beauties  shall  be 
enshrined,  that  I  may  bear  it's  name  engraven  upon 
my  heart,  and  often  make  devout  pilgrimage  unto  it's 
blessed  walls." 

"  No,  Richard,"  responded  that  fair  one,  "  such 
may  never  be ;  since  I  retire  me  from  the  world,  to 
be  free  from  all  it's  cares  and  tumultuous  passions, 
and  not  to  drag  after  me  the  lusts  which  I  have  for- 
sworn for  ever.  The  holy  joy  and  tranquillity  which 
I  promise  me  in  that  sacred  resting-place,  is  to  be 
won  only  by  giving  up  the  things  of  Time  for  the 
bliss  of  Eternity ;  even  as  the  storm-tossed  mariner 
hopes  to  win  safety  on  the  troubled  ocean,  when  he 
gladly  casts  from  his  barque  all  her  rich  lading  and 
brave  tackle,  so  that  he  may  ride  over  the  waves 
unto  his  desired  haven." 


2l)()  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PliANTAGENETS. 

The  pious  eai-nestness  with  which  she  spake,  caused 
me  to  feel  how  well  she  was  fitted  to  become  a  sainted 
inmate  of  a  convent ;  and  yet,  although  it  may  in 
truth  seem  strange,  the  more  I  saw  that  she  would 
adorn  such  a  holy  life,  the  more  did  I  desire  to  win 
her  therefrom  :  upon  which  I  again  said,  "  Neverthe- 
less, Lady,  might  it  not  be  well  to  remember  that  He 
who  willed  you  to  be  born  into  this  world,  gave  you 
unto  it  as  a  shining  light  to  call  forth  His  glory  ?  so 
that  to  withdraw  from  it  might  in  truth  be  but  to 
oppose  His  will." 

"  Thy  speech,  stranger,"  said  the  Lady  Bride  in  a 
more  reserved  tone,  "  is  not  to  honour  God,  but  to 
flatter  his  unworthy  servant.  Think  you  that  Hea- 
ven cannot  shew  forth  it's  own  glory,  even  from  the 
loneliest  retreat  of  it's  votaries  ?  or  deem  you  that, 
because  we  must  sojourn  for  awhile  here,  we  should 
foi'get  that  we  are  but  travelling  unto  immortality  ?  I 
ween  there  is  but  small  reason  in  this ;  and  as  well 
might  he  who  is  clad  in  the  infidel's  turban  and  caftan, 
when  for  some  short  season  he  journies  in  Palestine, 
think  to  wear  them  for  the  rest  of  his  days;  or  as  wisely 
might  the  merchant,  when  he  hath  returned  unto  his 
native  land,  think  evermore  to  speak  a  foreign  tongue. 
No,  Richard  !  He  who  hath  willed  me  to  live  on  this 
earth  designed  it  not  for  mine  home,  but  as  the  barque 
bearing  me  onward  to  Eternity;  and  it  is  for  that 
haven  that  I  would  even  now  prepare  me." 

Never,  I  trow,  did  religious  votary  gaze  with  more 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  297 

devout  admiration  upon  the  shrine  of  a  sainted  martyr, 
than  I  now  did  upon  the  Lady  Bride  ;  who  thus,  even 
in  the  very  noon-tide  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  was 
raised  far  above  the  thoughts  of  earth,  and  in  body  and 
spirit  devoted  unto  God.     As  I  thus  beheld  her  with 
wonder,   I  took  her   hand    and  fervently   exclaimed 
"  Piety  like  thine.  Lady,   might  in  truth  convert  an 
infidel,  and  almost  turn  a  Christian  to  an  Idolator  !" 
— In  doing  this  I  well  believe  that  such  reverent  ad- 
miration was  expressed  by  mine  eyes,  that  the  lovely 
Bride  was  assured  by  them  as  well  as  by  my  tongue, 
that  the  boldness  which  I  now  used  sprang  not  from 
idle  wantonness  nor  violence.     Although  methought 
she   somewhat   trembled  as  I   held  her,  yet  did  she 
seem  to  have  nought  of  alarm,  and  even  withdrew 
not  from  my  touch.     Upon  this,  notwithstanding  mine 
adoration  of  her  piety,  I   almost  unconciously  raised 
unto  my  lips  the  soft  hand  of  beauty  which  I  pressed, 
and   kissed  it;  yet,  though  the  Lady   Bride  started 
thereat,  it  seemed  unto  me  rather  from  surprise  than 
anger,  so  that  I  was  encouraged  to  repeat  it,  at  the 
same  moment  sinking  upon  one  knee,  when  most  sud- 
denly tlie  Gustos  of  St.  George's  Chapel  entered  the 
apartment,  followed  by  divers  Canons  and  servitors, 
and  one  or  two  Sisters  of  the  Order  of  St.  Austin. 

Li  truth  I  can  but  ill  depict,  how  the  good  Chris- 
topher Urswicke  and  his  followers  started  at  thus  see- 
ing me,  as  it  might  seem,  wooing  the  daughter  of  a 
King,  and  a  virgin  devoted  unto  the  cloister.     The  red 


298      THK  LAST  OF  THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

Hush  of  anger  rose  ujion  their  cheeks,  and  a  dark  light 
seemed  to  come  forth  of  their  eyes,  whilst  from  every 
tongue  the  words  of  wrath  came  full  rapidly  and 
fiercely.  "  Saints  of  Heaven  !"  cried  the  Gustos,  "  and 
is  it  thus  the  very  house  and  daughter  of  God  are 
profaned  by  a  foreign  stranger !  is  it  thus  that  a 
maiden  of  royal  blood, — as  the  holy  'Vangil  saith, 
'  dc  domo  et  familia  David,'  one  of  the  very  house 
and  line  of  David, — can  forget  her  high  estate  and 
sacred  espousals,  to  listen,  in  an  hour  of  danger  and 
even  in  her  father's  palace,  to  the  rude  homage  of 
a  nameless  soldier  ! — Lady,"  continued  he,  solemnly 
shaking  his  head,  "  this  is  not  well, — this  is  not  well." 

"It  is  indeed  not  well,  most  reverend  Decanus," 
answered  I,  starting  upon  my  feet,  "  to  deem  that  the 
Lady  Bride  would  hear,  or  that  I  should  speak,  aught 
to  which  angels  and  men  might  not  alike  listen.  You 
call  me  a  nameless  soldier,  and  unto  you  I  may  in- 
deed be  such ;  but  were  my  lineage  made  known, 
there  would  not  be  found  a  loftier  in  the  broad  realm 
of  England  !  And  yet  do  I  esteem  it  no  small  honour 
to  have  rescued  the  Lady  Bride,  when  her  holy  sis- 
ters had  fled  from  her,  and  her  servitors  were  more 
likely  to  have  fired  her  lodging  in  their  brawling 
cups,  than  to  have  saved  her  from  the  flames :  had 
theh'  aid  been  at  hand,  mine  had  been  uncalled  for." 

It  was  in  truth  somewhat  strange  that,  speaking  at 
a  venture  as  I  now  did,  I  should  so  exactly  guess  the 
cause  of  that  night's  brief  and  sudden  alarm  j  the  which 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  299 

did  at  length  prove  to  have  ariseii  from  the  carousing 
lacquies,  who  had  set  fire  unto  those  low  wooden 
buildings  beneath  the  Lady  Bride's  window  in  the 
lodgings  of  the  Decanus.  As  I  spake,  methought  I 
saw  some  of  the  servitors,  who  seemed  hastily  to  have 
taken  up  their  weapons,  start  forward ;  and  in  espe- 
cial one  tall  stout  fellow,  in  rusty  armour,  whose  face 
was  shaded  by  his  headpiece  :  howbeit,  the  spirit  of 
mine  ancestors  was  quick  within  my  veins,  and  I 
recked  not  the  nvimber  or  'vantage  of  my  foes,  but 
bore  me  against  them  with  lofty  speech  and  unyield- 
ing look.  Nevertheless,  the  boisterous  clamour  was 
again  renewed ;  and  though  it  might  be  that  little 
harm  was  intended  me,  yet  all  menaced ;  when  the 
Lady  Bi-ide,  in  a  resolute  though  gentle  voice,  com- 
manded that  none  should  harm  me ;  since  I  had  saved 
her  life  with  much  hazard  unto  myself,  and,  for  more 
security,  had  conducted  her  vxnto  the  cloisters. 

"  Small  danger,  I  trow,  was  there,  Lady  Bride," 
thereupon  answered  one  of  the  Austin  Nuns,  "  since 
all  the  fearful  blaze,  as  the  stranger  hath  well  said, 
came  but  from  some  drunken  servitors  who  had  fired 
their  lodging,  whicli  thou  knowest  might  never  have 
burned  the  stone  chambers  above." 

"  Then  small,  I  trow.  Sister  I\Laude,"  returned  the 
Lady  Bride  witli  a  gentle  quickness  of  answer,  "  small, 
I  trow,  was  the  courage  wanted  to  withstand  it ;  al- 
beit certain  of  my  companions  did  fly  even  from  that 
light  danger."     But,    whilst    she  &pake,  her  deport- 


300 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 


ment,  which  was  commonly  mild  as  the  soft  gale  of 
even-tide,  became  so  full  of  dignity  and  boldness, 
that  they  who  stood  by  were  at  once  subdued  into 
silence,  as  she  commanded  that  I  should  go  forth  in 
the  morning  without  farther  question,  seeing  that  I 
was  bearing  unto  London  certain  jewels  belonging  to 
the  late  Queen  her  mother.  And  this  her  so  gene- 
rous effort  on  my  behalf,  did  well  shew  unto  me  that 
courage,  not  less  than  virtue,  doth  evermore  spring 
in  a  truly  royal  bosom,  being  divinely  implanted  and 
brought  forth  therein  by  God. 

Upon  this,  however,  they  no  longer  flouted  me, 
but  gave  their  best  care  to  the  Lady  Bride  in  convey- 
ing her  unto  another  lodging ;  and  thus  was  that  fair 
one  and  myself  again  most  rudely  parted.  Yet,  as  she 
went  forth,  she  once  more  looked  round  unto  me,  and, 
as  our  eyes  met,  I  saw  holy  resignation  in  her  visage, 
which  admonished  me  of  our  duty,  though  blended, 
as  methought,  with  somewhat  of  regret  for  our  sepa- 
rating thus ;  and  she  also  waved  her  hand  unto  me 
with  gratitude  and  dignity.  The  ancient  Gustos  then 
told  me,  that  as  I  had  not  scrupled  to  address  a  be- 
trothed daughter  of  the  Church  with  unholy  words 
even  within  the  Gollege  walls,  I  might  no  longer  look 
for  harbour  or  entertainment  there,  but  that  I  must 
begone  when  the  Gastle  should  first  be  opened  in  the 
morning;  unto  which  he  secretly  added,  "I  well 
believe  the  Princess  is  most  virtuous,  and  yourself  an 
honest  soldier;  though,  for  your  own  sake,  as  a  bene- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  301 

factor  unto  our  Chapel,  I  wish  you  a  safe  and  speedy 
departure.  Keep  out  of  the  main  road  if  you  may, 
and  go  any  whither  rather  than  to  London  for  a  brief 
space ;  and  so  I  commit  you  unto  the  keeping  of 
God." 

I  followed  this  counsel  as  closely  as  I  might,  travel- 
ling a  most  wearisome  jom*ney  tlu'ough  Avild  and  cross 
roads  unto  Leicester,  where  I  made  the  Lady  Marga- 
ret's offering  at  the  Church  of  the  Grey-Friars,  and 
added  thereunto  mine  own.  poor  dole  for  the  health 
of  the  soul  of  King  Richard  ;  both  of  the  which  pious 
gifts  have  since  been  seized  upon  as  spoil  by  the  tur- 
bulent son  of  Harry  Tudor,  and  even  my  father's 
sepulchre  laid  in  ruins  by  his  riotous  followers. 
Albeit  my  road  thither  was  full  of  hazard,  far  longer 
and  more  wearisome  than  it  Avould  have  been  to  have 
gone  unto  London,  and  thence  to  Leicester,  yet  did  I 
beguile  it  by  divers  thoughts  of  the  Lady  Bride  and 
my  converse  with  her  ;  wherein  mine  heart  did  exult, 
in  despite  of  all  the  contumely  which  I  had  endured. 
He  only,  who  hath  witnessed  the  sweet  smile,  and 
heard  the  melting  voice  of  peerless  beauty,  when  be- 
nignly listening  unto  a  suppliant's  suit,  he  only,  I  say, 
can  image  unto  himself  the  delight  with  which  I 
thought  over  all  her  words  and  glances.  And  even 
now,  too,  when  Time  hath  shorn  away  the  brown  locks 
of  youth  and  manhood, — now,  when  the  bright  blue 
eyes  have  become  dim  and  shaded,  and  mine  enfee- 
bled limbs  stiff  and  weak,  and  my  "  strong  men  bow 


302  TIIK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

themselves," — even  iioav  dotli  iny  breast  glow  with  a 
fire  not  it's  own,  when  I  bethink  me  of  tliat  blissful 
hour.  I  was  an  unknown  and  unfriended  soldier, 
beset  with  manifold  hazards ;  -but  what  deemed  I  of 
poverty  or  peril,  since  the  Lady  Bride's  last  look  and 
smile  were  unto  me  a  world  of  wealth  and  glory  ! 
whilst  the  only  touch  of  sorrow  which  I  felt,  was  the 
fear  that  in  this  world  I  should  see  her  face  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE      BUILDING     OP      A     IIOYAL      MAUSOLEUM,     AND     A 
SCENE    AT    THE    PILGRIMS'    HOSTEL    IN   SOUTHWARK. 


Then  munte  I  me  forth  the  Minstrr  to  knowen. 
Anil  awaytcile  a  woon,  wondeily  well  ybuilt, 
With  arches  on  evcrich  lialf,  and  bellichc  yeorven 
With  crocketcs  on  comers,  with  kuotti  s  of  gold. 
Wide  windows  ywrought,  ywritten  full  thick, 

Shincn  with  shapen  shields. 

»  »  *  » 

Though  tlie  tax  of  ten  year  were  truly  ygathered 
N'olde  it  maken  that  House  half  as  I  trow. 

PiEncE  Ploughman's  CnKOF. 

Divers  men  and  women  will  go  thus  after  their  own  willcs,  and  fyndyng 
out  one  pilgrimage. — And  if  these  men  and  women  be  a  monttli  in  their 
pilgrimage,  many  of  them  shall  be  an  lialf-ycar  after  great  janglers,  tale- 
tellers and  lyeis. 

The  State   Trials. 


Some  ten  days  passed  away  ere  I  betook  me  unto  Lon- 
don, to  make  the  Ducliess  JMargaret's  offering  at 
Berniondsey  Abbey ;  at  the  which  I  did  not  linger, 
for  that  the  Lady  Bride  was  no  hmger  dwelling  there; 
and  so  that  fair  and  stately  House  seemed  unto  me  like 


304      THE  LAST  OF  THK  PLANTAGENETS. 

a  blank  and  gloomy  void,  since  all  that  liad  given  life  or 
light  unto  it's  walls  was  then  far  distant,  either  in  the 
royal  towers  of  Windsor,  or  in  the  shades  of  some 
holy  convent  wliich  was  unto  me  unknown.  I  made 
the  Lady  INIargaret's  last  offering  at  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Peter  at  Westminster ;  hastening  thither  with  what 
speed  I  might,  having  a  full  intent  to  convey  me 
again  into  France  so  soon  as  I  should  have  performed 
the  same,  for  that  all  I  did  regard  as  dear  unto  me  in 
England,  was  now  parted  from  me  for  ever. 

Upon  coming  forth  from  the  Abbey,  I  went  me 
round  vmto  the  Eastern  end  thereof,  to  behold  the 
foundations  of  that  most  stately  Chapel  which  Harry 
Tudor  had  at  this  time  newly  begun  there,  for  the 
burial-place  of  King  Henry  VI.  as  he  affirmed,  though 
indeed  it  was  rather  for  the  interment  of  his  own 
body.  Whilst  I  was  looking  thereon,  an  aged  and 
venerable  Monk,  holding  a  scroll  of  vellum,  and 
clothed  in  the  black  habit  of  the  Benedictine  Order, 
drew  nigh  unto  the  spot  where  I  was  standing,  as 
though  he  were  about  to  enter  within  the  barriers  of 
the  building ;  and  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  me  full 
steadfastly  in  passing  by  me,  the  unwonted  custom  of 
my  youth  suddenly  returned  unto  me,  and  I  accosted 
him, — albeit  I  know  not  why, — with  our  ancient  con- 
vent-greeting of  "  Benedicile  vie,  Pater,"  which  I  had 
learned  to  address  unto  mine  elders  at  Ely  Monas- 
tery. Upon  this  he  gazed  at  me  more  earnestly  than 
before,  and  replied   with   the    common   res])onse   of 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  305 

"  Fili  mi,  Dominus  sit  vobiscum;"  the  which  seeming 
unto  me  like  a  pleasant  gale  from  the  country  of  my 
youth,  I  again  answered  with  " Et  tecum  quoque,  lieve- 
rendissime,"  at  the  same  time  making  him  the  courteous 
Ante  and  Retrd  reverence,*  which  had  been  taught 
me  in  my  boyhood  :  for,  as  I  knew  that  churchmen  of 
high  estate  were  oft-times  great  and  wondrous  buil- 
ders, I  knew  not  of  what  rank  he  might  be  whom  I 
thus  saluted,  though  such  reverence  should  be  paid 
only  to  an  Abbot  or  Prior. 

Howbeit,  he  declined  Avith  great  lowliness  tlie  lio- 
nour  which  I  did  thus  offer  him,  saying,  "  Nay,  my 
son,  this  salutation  belongeth  not  unto  me ;  for  I  am 
not  the  Lord  Abbot  of  Westminster,  for  whom,  ques- 
tionless, you  do  mistake  me.  Do  you  seek  speech  with 
him  }" 

"No,  in  good  sooth.  Father,"  returned  I,  ''but 
your  voice  and  words  sounded  unto  me  so  like  what 
I  did  oft-times  hear  when  a  youth  in  St.  INIary's  IMo- 
nastery  at  Ely,  that  I  could  not  chuse  but  answer 
and  bow  me  as  I  did." 


*  This  was  a  peculiar  manner  of  bowing  by  the  monks,  when 
they  entered  or  left  the  choir  ;  receiving  it's  name  from  their 
bending  firstly  anti,  or  to  the  altar  before  them,  and  tiien  retro, 
or  beliind,  to  the  Abbot  at  the  bottom  of  the  choir.  In  making 
this  bow,  the  back  was  to  be  lower  than  the  loins,  and  tiie  head 
than  the  back,  which  motion  was  considered  as  particvdarly 
graceful ;  the  ante  and  retro  reverence  was  in  general  made 
only  to  the  Abbot  and  Prior. 

X 


30f>  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS. 

"  A  youth,  said'st  thou,  in  St.  Mary's  Monastery  at 
Ely?"  rejoined  the  Monk,  "methought  thy  visage 
was  not  unknown  to  me,  for  I  also  am  of  that  House. 
Had  it  not  been  reported  that  one  Richard  Fitz-Ri- 
chard,  who,  some  seventeen  years  since,  was  a  pupil 
there, — was  slain  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth, — I  should 
full  surely  deem  that  thou  wert  he." 

"  And  in  good  sooth  I  am  none  other,  most  venera- 
ble Father,"  returned  I,  "  whom,  on  my  part,  I  take  to 
be  the  pious  and  learned  Austin,  the  Master  of  the 
Novices,  to  whose  care  I  owed  so  much  in  mine  early 
youth  ;  and  who  would  have  made  me  far  wiser  than  I 
am,  had  I  been  but  as  willing  to  learn  as  thou  wert  to 
teach." 

"  Alas  !  my  son,"  responded  the  good  Father  Aus- 
tin, for  it  was  in  truth  no  other  than  he,  ^"  alas  !  we 
be  all  alike  blame-worthy  therein ;  seeing  that  divine 
wisdom  is  for  ever  freely  held  out  unto  us,  and  yet 
the  best  of  us  desire  not  so  full  a  blessing  as  the 
bounty  of  Heaven  would  pour  into  our  bosoms.  How 
well,  therefore,  said  the  Wisest  of  IMen,  '  Sapientia 
juris  prcedicai,'  Wisdom  discourseth  in  the  streets, 
and  yet  do  we  never  regard  her." 

"  I  perceive,  good  Father,"  responded  I  hereunto, 
"  that  you  remain  unaltered,  inasmuch  as  your  every 
speech  is  still  full  of  blended  charity  and  instruction  ; 
but  may  I  crave  of  your  discretion  to  tell  me  how  you 
are  employed  at  this  Chapel." 

"  Truly,  good  Richard,"  answered  the  Monk,  "  that 
will  I  readily  shew  you;  so  jjass  with  me  within  the 


THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS.  307 

barriers,  and  mark  well  these  foundations,  on  which, 
'  .si  Dominus  voluerit,'  if  the  Lord  be  willing, — as  the 
blessed  'Postle  James  doth  well  teach  us  to  say  in  all 
that  we  purpose  to  do  hereafter, — there  shall  be  raised 
so  glorious  an  edifice,  that  I  trow  it  shall  be  the  mar- 
vel of  distant  generations,  and  earth  shall  have  nought 
worthy  of  being  placed  beside  it." 

I  did  now  follow  the  good  Monk  into  the  spacious 
works  of  that  wondrous  Chapel  of  Our  Lady  at  West- 
minster, which  is  called  by  Henry's  name,  and  where- 
of, at  the  time  I  do  now  write  of,  the  first  stone  had 
been  but  lately  posited :  it  being  done,  as  a  legend 
thereupon  cut  did  declare  in  Latin,  on  Wednesday, 
the  24th  day  of  January,  in  this  very  year  1503,  at  a 
quarter  before  three  of  the  clock  in  the  afternoon.  The 
same  was  set  in  it's  place  by  Harry  Tudor,  the  Lady 
Margaret  his  mother.  Abbot  John  Islip  of  Westmin- 
ster, Sir  Reginald  Bray,  and  others.  Of  these  last 
two  I  would  here  note  that  they  were  both  most  rare 
builders  ;  the  one  having  also  reared  him  a  Chapel  in 
the  Abbey  at  Westminster,  the  which  is  full  thickly 
studded  with  devices  of  his  name  carved  in  stone : 
and  for  the  other,  it  was  he  who  built  a  kingdom  for 
Richmond,  since  he  found  niv  father's  coronet  on 
the  field  of  Bosworth  ;  when  the  Lord  Stanley,  giving 
away  that  which  he  had  no  right  in,  made  Harry  a 
King  by  setting  it  upon  his  head. 

Nevertheless,  this  Sir  Reginald  was  a  most  skilful 
v.orkman,  and  is  oft-times  said  in  story  to  have  been 


308  THE    I.A5T    OF    THK    PI.ANTAGKNETS. 

the  only  deviser  of  the  Chapel  at  Westminster,  be- 
cause he  was  Comptroller  of  the  Royal  Works  and 
buildings;  but  I  wot  well  that  Father  Austin  told 
and  shewed  me  at  this  time,  that  the  plat  of  the 
whole  was  drawn  forth  by  the  pious  and  learned  John 
Alcock,  Bishop  of  Ely,  also  a  Master  of  those  Works, 
before  his  death,  the  which  plat  was  then  given  unto 
the  chief  masons  of  that  place.  They  were  to  edify 
the  same  by  written  indenture  with  Father  William 
Bolton,  the  Prior  of  St.  Bartholomew's,  made  Master 
of  the  Works  in  the  fore-named  Chapel  upon  the 
death  of  Bishop  Alcock  and  Sir  Reginald  Bray  ;  and 
by  him  was  it  brought  unto  a  fair  conclusion  some 
fourteen  years  after  this.*     Howbeit,  Father  Austin 


•  The  persons  mentioned  above  have  both  been  esteemed 
as  the  Architects  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel  at 
Westminster,  especially  the  latter,  as  Eishop  Alcock  died  Oct. 

1st,  1500, though  he  is  thought  entirely  to  have  completed 

the  design  before  his  death,— and  Sir  Reginald  Bray  in  Oct. 
1503.  They  have  been  thus  considered,  because  they  both 
held  the  office  noticed  in  the  text ;  but  in  the  description  of 
the  royal  tomb,  contained  in  the  Will  of  Henry  VII.,  the  Prior 
of  St.  Bartholomew's  is  called  "  Master  of  the  King's  Works 
in  that  Chapel,"  and  to  him  were  delivered  "  the  plat''  for  the 
building,  signed  by  Henry  himself,  with  pictures  of  the 
images,  arms,  and  badges,  for  the  painted  glassof  the  windows. 
This  ecclesiastic  was  William  Bolton,  who  received  the  tem- 
poralities of  his  office  Aug.  27th,  1505,  the  21st  year  of  Henry 
YII.,  and  he  continued  Prior  until  his  death  in  1532.  He  is 
recorded  to  have  been  a  great  builder,  who  repaired  the  Priory 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  309 

of  Ely  was  mainly  aiding  herein,  for  that  he  had  been 
a  near  friend  of  the  Bishop's,  and  was  also  specially 
skilled  in  making  of  stately  edifices ;  and  when  I 
made  known  unto  him  what  I  had  seen  and  learned  of 
that  Art  during  my  sojourn  in  Burgundy,  he  would 
fain  have  me  as  his  fellow- workman :  so  that  for 
awhile  I  laid  aside  my  soldier's  habit,  and  became  a 
builder  at  Westminster,  lodging  with  mine  old  tutor 
in  the  Dormitorium  of  the  monks  thereof 

Whiles  that  I  am  speaking  of  this  i)art  of  my  former 
years,  I  would  note,  that  in  very  truth  I  never  in  my 
life  saw  aught  so  brave  and  glorious,  so  holy  and  grave 
a  structure,  as  this  Chapel  of  Henry  Tudor.  He  lived 
not  to  see  it  orderly  finished,  albeit  ere  he  deceased* 
it  was  covered  in  with  that  most  wondrous  fretted 
vaulting,  which  looketh  as  it  had  been  made  of  woven 
wands  changed  into  stone.  Around  the  Chapel  were 
many  fair  glass  windows,  shining  with  sacred  stories 
and  devices  of  Armory,  rarely  wrought  upon  them  in 
rich  colours  ;  and  divers  ftiir  altars  were  set  up  in 
several  parts  of  the  building,  the  which  were  well  pro- 


and  Parish  Churches  of  St.  Bartholomew,  with  the  lodginfrs 
and  offices  of  his  own  House,  and  to  have  erected  a  new  manor- 
house  at  Canonbury  b}'  Islington,  &c.  Speed's  statement, 
that  Bishop  Fox  was  concerned  in  the  design  of  tlie  King's 
Chapel,  has  been  already  referred  to  in  a  former  note. 

*  Henry  VII.  died  at  Ilichmond,  on  Saturday,  April  21st, 
150!). 


310  THB    LAST    OF    TlIK    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

vided  of  costly  vessels  and  furniture.  But  I  trow  that 
tlie  richest  sight  of  all,  was  Henry's  own  tomb  in  the 
midst,  before  the  high-altar ;  it  being  of  black  touch- 
stone garnished  in  the  choicest  wise  with  many  sculp- 
tures, pillars,  and  figures,  of  brass  and  copper  overlaid 
with  gold,  wrought  by  the  skill  and  cunning  of  one 
Peter  Torrysany*  of  the  City  of  Florence,  Painter. 
Upon  that  tomb  lay  the  effigies  of  Henry  Tudor  and 
tlie  good  Queen  Elizabeth,  as  great  as  the  life,  in  cop- 
per gilt ;  and  at  the  four  corners  thereof  sat  winged 
boys  bearing  divers  emblems,  and  his  banner  and  de- 
vice of  the  dragon.  And  about  the  whole  sepulchre  was 
there  ordained  a  wondrous  stately  'closure  of  pierced 
brass,  in  manner  of  a  chapel,  cast  by  the  same  skilful 
Florentine  ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  said  tomb  within, 
was  an  altar,  having  chantry -priests  to  say  mass  thereat 
for  the  soul  of  him  who  was  sepultured  beneath. 

This,  I  say,  was  some  part  of  the  glory  of  that  won- 
drous Chapel,  when  that  it  was  finished;  to  behold 
tlie  which  so  perfected,   hath  been   one   of  the  very 

*  Pietro  Torregiano,  the  celebrated  Sculptor  and  conteir.po- 
rary  of  Michel- Angelo  Buonarroti.  Several  of  the  original  in- 
dentures or  covenants  for  his  works  for  the  Tomb  of  Henrv 
VII.  are  yet  extant,  which  curiously  illustrate  the  progi'ess  of 
the  cemetery  :  that  for  the  metal  screen  round  the  monument  is 
dated  October,  1512,  and  in  XTACi  another  agreement  appears 
for  erecting  a  rich  canopy  and  altar  within  tlie  Chapel,  to  be 
finished  by  November  1st,  1510,  which  ])rob;ibly  indicates  tlie 
time  of  the  comjiletion  of  the  whole  edifice. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  311 

few  causes  of  my  coming  forth  from  the  retired  soli- 
tude of  mine  old  age.  And,  as  I  do  now  remember 
me,  I  saw  it  upon  the  Obit,  or  Anniversary  of  the 
death  of  Harry  Tudor,  in  the  year  of  Christ  1520 ; 
by  the  which  time  mine  angry  passions  against  him 
were  so  much  allayed,  that  even  I  could  speak  my 
Requiescat  over  his  tomb  with  the  others.  But  surely 
no  shrine  of  holy  Confessor,  spotless  Virgin,  or  tri- 
umphant JMartyr,  ever  shone  so  resplendently  as  did 
his  Chapel  at  Westminster  at  that  season.  The  higli- 
altar  there  was  decked  with  a  mighty  cross  of  wood 
plated  over  with  gold,  and  a  great  effigy  of  the  Virgin 
adorned  with  jewels  :  but  within  Henry's  own  se- 
pulchre, I  set  down  no  fable  when  I  say  that  there 
Avere  an  hundred  large  waxen  tapers,  standing  about 
his  hearse,  that  was  garnished  with  banners,  and  pen- 
sils,  and  escutcheons,  of  fine  gold.  The  brazen  'clo- 
sure of  the  tomb,  too,  was  all  girt  about  with  that  so- 
lemn and  stately  band  of  black  velvet,  two  feet  broad, 
called  by  the  French  Le  Litre,  but  with  us  in  England, 
the  Funeral  Belt  ;  which  is  proper  imto  great  lords 
and  Sovereign  Princes,  who  have  been  Founders  and 
Patrons   of  Churches.*      At    the  altar,  which   stood 


•  This  very  ancient  and  extraordinary  symbol  of  Funeral 
pomp,  was  used  princii)ally  in  France,  and  was  generally  orna- 
mented with  the  arms  of  the  deceased,  and  tears,  skulls,  and 
other  emblems  of  death.  The  ribband,  or  belt  used  for  Sove- 
reigns was  commonly  of  black  silk,  and  that  for  nobles  always 


312  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

within  Harry  Tiidor's  sepulchre,  nil  the  furniture 
Avas  shining  with  gold,  and  the  hangings  thereof  were 
of  black  cloth-of-gold ;  the  same  being  full  richly  set 
forth  with  a  great  piece  of  the  Holy  Cross,  encased 
also  in  fine  gold  adorned  with  gems,  and  one  of  the 
legs  of  the  valiant  Martyr  St.  George,  brought  from 
Milan  in  Italy,  set  in  silver  and  partly  gilt.  On  every 
side,  too,  I  wot,  there  might  be  seen  marbles  of  divers 
colours,  pillars  of  gilded  copper,  and  imperial  crowns 
and  arms ;  with  certain  fine  images,  wondrously 
wrought  in  baken  earth,  pourtraying  the  histories  of 
the  Nativity  and  Resurrection  of  Our  Lord,  Angels 
kneeling  with  emblems  of  His  Passion,  and  His  effigy 
as  taken  dead  from  the  cross,  painted  in  so  marvellous 
a  manner  as  to  look  like  very  nature. 

But  albeit  I  may  not  in  this  little  tome  declare,  one 
half  part  of  the  resplendent  glories  of  that  burial- 
place,  I  may  not  forget  to  note  that  there  was  brought 
unto  it  from  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward  the  King  and 
Confessor, — that  image  which  Henry  Tudor  ordained 
to  be  made  of  himself  in  his  last  Will.  It  was  choicely 
sculptured  in  wood,  being  wrought  with  plate  of  fine 
gold  in  manner  of  an  armed  man,  having  his  coat- 
armour  enamelled  thereon,  kneeling  upon  a  table  of 
silver  and  gilt,  and  holding  the  crown,  which, — as 
Henry's  Testament  full  cunningly  saith, — •'  it  pleased 


of  cloth :    it  frequently  passed   entirely  round   the    church, 
chapel,  or  burial-place,  as  well  without  as  within. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  313 

God  to  give  us,  with  the  victory  of  our  enemy  at  our 
first  field."  Truly  I  wot,  that  if  he  never  spake  truth 
before  touching  his  claim  unto  the  throne  of  this 
realm,  herein  he  did  it ;  inferring  unto  posterity  that 
it  was  by  right  of  conquest,  by  his  own  sword  and 
his  own  bow  ;  and  neither  by  the  questionless  title  of 
the  good  Queen  Elizabeth,  nor  tlie  call  and  consent  of 
the  nation.* 

But  now  to  leave  speaking  of  this,  and  return  again 
unto  mine  own  story,  I  had  not  been  occupied  in  the 
building  of  Harry  Tudor's  Chapel  at  Westminster 
past  two  years,  when,  a  little  before  Lent  in  1505,  the 
pious  Father  Austin  sickened  and  died  in  the  Donnitu- 
rium  of  the  IVIonastery  there.  His  ending  was  full  calm, 
and  altogether  such  as  became  a  Christian  man  ;  yet 
did  he  tell  me  that  one  thing  lay  full  heavy  upon  his 
conscience  ;  the  which  was,  that  whereas  he  had  pur- 
posed and  vowed,  on  his  first  coming  unto  London,  to 


•  Henry's  claim  to  the  crown  by  descent  was  utterly  witli- 
out  foundation,  resting  only  upon  the  title  of  his  mother  INIar- 
garet,  daughter  and  heiress  of  John  Ueaui'ort,  Earl  of  Somer- 
set ;  who  was  the  son  of  John  Beaufort,  the  eldest  son  of  John 
of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  and  fourth  son  of  Edward  III. 
The  Duke,  however,  had  this  son  and  other  issue  by  Catherine 
Swinford,  not  only  before  his  marriage  with  her,  but  also  in 
the  life-time  of  Constance  of  Castile,  his  second  wife ;  and 
though,  in  13!)G,  he  procured  an  Act  of  Parliament  by  which 
they  were  made  legitimate,  a  special  exception  was  inserted 
of  their  thence  deriving  any  right  to  the  royal  dignity. 


314      THE  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

make  a  devout  \n\gTimage  unto  the  Shrine  of  St.  Tho- 
mas of  Canterbury, — he  had  been  letted  and  pre- 
vented thereof  by  aiding  the  Bishop  of  Ely  in  plotting 
out  and  founding  Henry's  Chapel.  "  Therefore,"  said 
he,  "  good  Richard,  my  dear  son  in  Christ,  I  pray  you 
that  you  will  undertake  this  travel  for  me,  and  it  shall 
peradventure  be  of  special  good  unto  us  both.  I  trow 
that  I  have  often  wished  to  behold  the  King's  most 
stately  Chapel  completed,  because  I  do  well  ween  that 
the  earth  shall  scarcely  have  it's  fellow ;  but  such 
was  not  the  will  of  God,  and  to  Him  I  gladly  go  hence, 
far  from  the  building  of  this  temple  unto  a  better  : 
'  Domum,' — as  the  blessed  'Posile  Powle  well  calleth 
the  many-mansioned  house  of  the  Father  of  Our 
Lord, — '  Donmtn  non  vumufactain,  eternavi  in  ccelis  ;' 
an  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  hea- 
vens." 

And  with  these,  and  the  like  Christian  aspirations, 
Avent  he  unto  his  rest ;  and  as  soon  as  I  might  after 
his  burial,  in  the  second  week  in  Lent,*  what  time 
Pilgrims  do  commonly  journey  unto  Canterbury,  I 
joined  me  unto  a  party  then  presently  travelling  thi- 
ther, and  lodging  at  the  ancient  and  famous  Tabard 
hostel  in  Southwark.  We  set  forth  about  the  hour 
of  Prime  on  a  fair  fresh  morning,  being  Tuesday,  the 
loth  day   of  February,  purposing  to  spend  a  month 

•  In  the  year  1505,  Ash-We<lnesday  fell  upon  February  5tli, 
and  Easter  Sunday  on  Maixh  23rd. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    I'LANTAGENETS.  315 

on  our  pilgrimage,  and  to  return  again  unto  London 
toward  the  Feast  of  Easter. 

Thus,  therefore,  did  I  behold  the  renowned  Shrine 
of  St.  Thomas  ere  the  late  boisterous  son  of  Harry  Tu- 
dor had  despoiled  it,  and  even  blotted  the  name  of  the 
Archbishop  from  the  calendars  and  service-books  of 
the  Church  ;  and  well  I  wot  that  there  were  few  se- 
pulchres more  resplendent  than  tliat  wherein  the  re- 
mains of  his  body  rested,  unto  the  whicli  it  was  trans- 
ferred by  the  wise  Cardinal  Stephen  Langton,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  The  said  Shrine  stood  upon 
high,  covered  by  a  carved  wooden  box,  which  was 
drawn  up  by  cords,  and  disclosed  unto  our  view  a 
tomb,  whereof  the  basest  part  was  of  massive  gold,  for 
every  thing  around  it  sparkled  and  shined  with  very 
large  and  rare  jewels.  Then  did  the  Prior  recount  imto 
us  the  names  of  their  several  donors,  touching  each 
with  a  white  wand,  and  telling  the  name  and  price  of 
the  gem  ;  and  in  truth  most  of  them  were  the  gifts  of 
Sovereign  Princes.  But  I  beheld  also  what  the  monks 
of  Canterbury  feign,  as  I  think,  to  esteem  much  be- 
yond these  riches,  namely,  the  reliques  of  St.  Thomas : 
such  as  his  leg,  like  along  thin  reed,  plated  over  with 
silver;  his  whole  face  set  in  gold  and  jewels  ;  and  his 
coarse  gown  and  sudarium,  yet  covered  with  the  stain 
of  his  blood.  There  were,  likewise,  in  this  most  an- 
cient Church  many  other  sights  of  great  pomp  and 
glory,  which  have  since  been  des])oiled  and  ruined, 
when    that   the  late  Henry's  Visitors  plundered  the 


♦ 


316      THK  LAST  OK  THE  PLANTAGENE TS. 

riclies  of  Canterbury  ;  being  the  Blessed  Virgin's 
Slirine  in  the  vaults  beneath,  and  the  vast  pomp  of 
vestments  and  golden  furniture  in  the  Vestiaria.  Ne- 
vertheless, I  noted  in  one  place^  a  little  wooden  altar 
unto  the  holy  IMary,  which  is  reported  to  be  very  an- 
cient, and  in  truth  it  might  have  belonged  unto  the 
Church  when  her  pastors  could  declare  "  Silver  and 
gold  have  we  none,"  albeit  they  had  the  greater  wealth 
of  saying  unto  such  as  were  sick,  "  Arise  and  walk  !" 
— And  of  late  years,  in  my  retreat  from  the  world,  I 
have  pondered  much  and  earnestly,  upon  men's  costly 
and  almost  boundless  building,  beautifying,  and  en- 
riching Churches ;  and,  peradventure,  my  thoughts 
do  somewhat  differ  from  those  that  I  had  at  the  time 
whereof  I  now  write.  Some,  I  trow,  do  it  for  fame 
after  their  deaths  ;  others,  to  make  restitution  of  ill- 
gotten  riches ;  and,  questionless,  some  out  of  pure 
devotion  unto  God  and  his  service:  yet  cannot  I  but 
think  that  such  great  wealth  hath  been  the  main 
cause  of  the  vicious  lives  and  pride  of  the  late  monks 
of  England,  It  is  full  hard  to  keep  a  holy  course 
with  an  abundance  of  this  world's  goods,  or  to  carry 
a  flowing  cup  without  spilling ;  but  I  nevertheless 
deem  it  sacrilegious  plunder  to  seize,  as  the  second 
Harry  Tudor  hath  of  late  done,  upon  the  possessions 
of  the  Churches  and  IMonasteries,  and  confiscate  them 
unto  himself,  depriving  their  priests  and  brethren  of 
their  support  and  shelter,  because  they  were  so  hap- 
less  as  to  have  riches.     Certes,  in   all  Churches   and 


THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAOENETS.  317 

Religious  Houses,  I  would  have  the  vestments  and 
vessels  grave  and  stately,  fitted  unto  the  holy  service 
and  the  sovereignty  of  God  :  but  to  what  pui-pose  is 
it  that  men  do  spend  all  their  substance  upon  golden 
fonts  and  candlesticks,  images  and  organs,  rare  sculp- 
tures and 'bi'oidered  hangings  for  our  earthly  temples, 
when  so  many  of  our  brethren  and  sisters  of  mankind, 
— Christ's  living  temples, — be  ready  to  perish  with 
hunger  and  thirst  ? 

Howbeit,  it  was  of  the  glories  of  these  things  that 
the  company  of  Pilgrims  did  most  speak,  what  time 
we  returned  unto  the  Tabard  Hostel  in  South  wark 
some  ten  days  before  Easter,  and  were  taking  a  parting 
supper  together  with  our  host.  All  men  do  well 
know  that  broad  and  spacious  Inn,  with  it's  wide  gate- 
way opening  unto  the  street,  and  the  great  court  with- 
in, and  galleries  of  lodging-rooms  round  about  it ; 
and  it  seemeth  that  almost  all  men  repair  unto  it,  for, 
beside  the  party  with  which  I  had  now  returned, 
there  were  divers  going  unto  Canterbury  against  Eas- 
ter, or  travelling  from  other  shrines  back  into  the 
South  parts  of  the  realm.  All  these  were  full  of  talk- 
ing and  vain  disputations  as  to  the  marvels  they  had 
seen,  and  the  holiness  of  the  shrines  whereto  they  had 
travelled  ;  some  affirming  that  St.  Thomas  passed  all 
beside,  and  others  that  Our  Lady  of  Walsingham  was 
without  peer.  Divers,  moreover,  had  brought  back 
with  them  little  else  than  the  disports  which  be 
strangely,  though  full  connnonly,  used  in  such  jour- 


318 


TIIK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 


nies,  as  the  merry  tunes,  the  lewd  songs,  and  the  wild 
tales  that  they  had  heard  therein.  For  some  pilgrims 
do  carry  pipers  with  them,  so  that  every  town  they 
ride  through,  what  with  the  noise  of  their  singing  and 
sound  of  their  piping,  the  ringing  ,of  those  bells 
which  be  given  them  as  tokens  at  Canterbury,  and 
the  barking  of  dogs  after  their  train, — they  make 
as  great  outcry  as  if  the  King  rode  by  with  all  his  cla- 
rions and  minstrels.*  But,  natheless,  there  were  some 
of  that  company  at  the  Tabard,  whose  religious  zeal 
was  truly  quickened  by  hearing  of  the  acts,  and  see- 
ing of  the  reliques  of  God's  Saints  and  Martyrs,  or 
looking  upon  his  most  ancient  and  holy  Churches  : 
the  which,  perchance,  is  most  of  the  good  that  is  to 
be  found  in  pilgrimage. 

But  I  trow  others  did  contrariwise  think  their  tra-  j| 

vel  to  have  been  enow    to  blot  out  a   whole  life  of  I 

guilt,  and  even  to  be  a  license  under  which  they  might  ■ 

commit  new  crimes  ;  and  of  this  sort  seemed  unto  me 
a  rustic-looking  man,  whose  fierce  visage  was  covered 
with  red  hair,  and  whose  coarse  habit  shewed  him  to  be 
of  low  degree  and  breeding.     He  had  joined  our  com- 


*  AFhen  these  very  indecorous  practices  were  objected  to 
Thomas  Arundel,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  he  defended 
them  by  saying  that  pipers  and  singers  went  with  pilgrims, 
that  when  those  who  travelled  barefoot  struck  their  feet  against 
a  stone  and  made  them  bleed,_they  should  begin  a  song,  or 
play  away  their  hurt  by  a  tune  on  the  bag-j)ipes. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  319 

pany  a  little  space  out  of  Canterbury ,  albeit  I  had  not 
noted  him  until  we  got  unto  the  Tabard ;  when  I 
found  him  to  be  a  free  and  bold  knave,  though  won- 
drously  well-spoken  after  his  blunt  fashion.  Then  did 
he  tell  us  all  that  he  sought  to  take  service  with  Lord 
John  deMarlow,  the  Prior  of  Bermondsey,  in  his  grange 
or  elsewhere,  for  that  now  the  land  was  at  peace  there 
was  no  more  want  of  soldiers.  "  Howbeit,  my  masters," 
added  he,  "as  your  roving  lance-man  would  make  but 
a  sorry  son  of  the  Church  without  clean  shriving,  I 
have  now  made  me  the  two  great  pilgrimages  unto  Our 
Lady  of  Walsingham  and  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury, 
and  trow  that  I'm  as  meek  as  a  maiden,  and  pure  as 
the  new-born  infant." 

Then,  as  I  have  said,  divers  of  our  company  did  fami- 
liarly speak  of  the  marvels  which  they  had  seen  in  their 
several  journies;  and  such  as  had  been  afore-time 
in  foreign  parts,  did  tell  of  many  holy  things  of  great 
wonder  which  be  yet  kept  therein.  Thus,  one  spake  of 
the  coat  of  Our  Lord  at  Constantinople,  the  same 
being  without  seams  and  called  "  tunica  inconsumpla"  ; 
together  with  the  cross  of  the  good  thief  Dymas. 
Another  told  of  the  most  ancient  City  of  Cologne, 
where  he  beheld  the  uncorrupted  bodies  of  the 
three  blessed  Kings,  who  followed  the  wondrous  star 
unto  Bethlehem  of  Judea :  whilst  a  third  one  did 
affirm  that  he  had  been  in  Geneway,  and  had  there 
looked  upon  the  Saint-Graal  or  Holy  Vessel,  marvel- 
lously made  of  a  fair  and  single  emerald  ;   wlierefrom 


320  THE    LAST    OF    TIIR    PLANTAGENETS. 

men  do  say  that  Our  Lord  did  eat  of  the  last  Passover- 
Lamb  at  Paske-tide  !  *  But  the  rustic  person  whom 
I  spake  of  afore,  told  us  another  sort  of  histories  for 
his  share  of  the  disport,  touching  that  which  he  had 
seen  in  his  pilgrimage  unto  Walsingham.  Such  I 
trow  was  his  strange  report  of  "  the  Good  Sword  of 
Winfarthing/'t  in  Norfolk,  which  would  recover  the 
strayed  or  stolen  horses  of  them  that  lighted  unto  it 
a  taper  and  sought  it's  aid ;  unto  the  whicli  he  added 
another  marvel  in  yet  these  words  in  this  rude,  though 
wondrous,  ballad  that  followeth. 


•  This  supposed  relique,  which  forms  so  very  prominent  a 
feature  in  the  romance  of  King  Arthur,  being  an  object  of 
search  to  all  the  Knights  of  the  Round-Table, — appeared  in 
Genoa  first  in  1101,  having  been  found  at  the  capture  of  Ciesa- 
rea,  and  presented  by  Baldwin,  King  of  Jerusalem.  It  remain- 
ed at  Genoa  until  it  was  removed,  with  other  spoil,  to  the  Impe- 
rial Library  at  Paris,  in  November  180G,  when  it  was  found  to 
be  only  of  fine  green  glass,  though  probably  of  ancient  manu- 
facture :  it  is  hexangular  in  shape,  and  measures  twelve  French 
inches  in  diameter  and  three  in  height.  It  was  originally  sup- 
posed to  have  the  gift  of  working  miracles,  and  especially  of 
curing  diseases. 

-f-  This  singular  relique  is  also  affirmed  to  have  had  the 
power  of  assisting  such  females  as  lighted  a  taper  before  it  every 
Sunday  in  the  year,  by  shortening  the  lives  of  their  spouses- 
It  is,  nevertheless,  said  that  it  was  originally  the  sword  of  a 
robber  who  had  taken  sanctuary  in  the  churchyard,  and,  escap- 
ing thence,  left  it  behind  him  ;  when,  after  having  lain  several 
years  in  an  old  chest,  the  parson  and  clerk  converted  it  into  a 
relique  with  considerable  success. 


THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  321 


Vl'bt  Wiiditt  of  Saalsi'ncirjam. 

Of  England  and  her  ancient   Knights  doth  many  a  minstrel 

tell, 
And  their  mighty  deeds  of  daring-do  their  lays  and    legends 

swell, 
And  the  marvels  they  beheld  of  old  are  sung  both  wide  and  far, 
With  their  noble  faith  in  love,  and  their  gallantry  in  war ; 
But  I  ween  a  better  tale  was  never  told  in  cam])  or  court. 
Than  the  Wicket-gate  of  Walsingham  and  llalph  De  Bote- 
tourt. 


A  braver  soldier  never  braced  a  cuirass  to  his  breast, 
A  taller  champion  never  raised  in  tilt  or  field  his  crest, 
A  stouter  wight  a  stronger  barb  across  did  never  stride, 
And  he  rear'd  himself  full  loftily  when  forth  he  'gan  to  ride ; 
And  broad  and  high  must  spread  the  gate  of  barbican  or  fort. 
Wherein  might  pass  the  mounted  Knight,  Sir  Ralph  De  Bote- 
tourt. 


To  Walsingham  in  wildest  speed  he  comes  in  arms  array'd. 
His  mail-shirt  rent  with   battle-strokes,  with  blood  upon  his 

blade. 
And  a  vengeful  host  behind  him  spurring  on  in  iiot  career, 
He  swiftly  rides,  yet  cheek  and  eye  are  all  unchanged  by  fear  : 
Though  well  I  ween  their  hasty  course  is  not  in   mirth   or 

sport, 
Or  that  little  hazard  put  to  flight  Sir  Ralph  De  Botetourt. 

He  speeds  him  to  the  Sanctuary  that  lies  before  him  straight. 
But  how  may  ilight  avail  him  aught  at  yonder  narrow  gate 

y 


322  THK    LAST    or    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

That  scarcely  spreads  an  ell  in  height,  or  a  yard  in  space  be- 
tween, 

When  full  ten  feet  that  mounted  Knight  and  war-horse  stand 
I  ween  P 

His  foemen  deem  his  blood  to  spill  at  the  Abbey's  lowly  port, 

"  Now  Christ  protect  thee  from  their  swords  !  Sir  Ralph  De 
Botetourt." 

"  Oh  haste  thee  on  my  barb  !"  he  cries,  "slack  not  thy  swift 

career, 
To  save  thy  fainting  master's  life  from  the  vengeful  foeman's 

spear ; 
It  is  not  from  an  equal  strife,  nor  the  battle-field's  array 
That  I  call  thee  with  a  coward  speed  to  bear  me  hence  to-day, 
But  a  lurking  host  assails  me  now  of  fierce  and  foul  report. 
Yet  some  have  felt  the  blade,  I  trow,  of  Ralph  De  Botetourt." 

A  fervent  and  a  silent  vow  he  made  within  his  breast, 

He  breathed  a  soldier's  hasty  prayer  as  on  his  barb  he  press'd ; 

Then  cheer'd  once  more  his  gallant  steed,  with  stedfast  heart 

and  faith 
That  the  Virgin  would  be  with  him  still,  in  safe  retreat  or 

death : 
To  Her  and  to  Her  Son  alone  now  look'd  he  for  support. 
Since  vain  were  flight  and  valour  both  to  Ralph  De  Bote- 
tourt. 

A  sudden  bound  the  charger  makes, — the  foe  is  on  his  flanks, 
"With   pointed   spears    and   ready    blades    uplifted  in   their 

ranks ! 
And— Holy  Saints  !— the  low  arch  spreads  ! — the  Knight  is 

safe  within  ! 
And  without  his  wond'riug  enemies  stand  baflled  in  their  sin  ! 


THE    LAST    OK    THK    J»L,ANTA(tENETS.  323 

The  good  Sir  Ralph  rejoiced  him  then,  for  mortal  wight  had 

ne'er 
A  greater  miracle  to  aid  in  hour  of  his  despair  ; 
He  graved  his  image  on  the  gate  of  that  most  hlessed  court, 
And  so,  God  rest  the  jjious  Knight,  Sir  Ralph  de  Botetourt ! 


As  this  ballad  was  brought  unto  an  end,  an  aged 
and  reverend  Palmer,  who  was  of  our  company,  said 
''  Lordings  all,  I    well  ween  that  this  is   a  full  true 
story ;  howbeit,  there  seemeth   unto   me  to  be  some 
pious  mystery  hidden  therein.     For  the   Knight  and 
his  foemen  may  well  prefigure  man  pursued  by  the 
Fiend,  against  whom  he  cannot  stand ;   and  so  flieth 
he  for  refuge  unto  God,  who  is  shadowed  forth  by  His 
earthly  Church.      But,  in  his  unsanctified  condition, 
man  is  as  it  were  a  giant  in  his  sins,  who  cannot  enter 
at  that  portal  which  Our  Lord  calleth  '  Forta  angusta 
el  via  arcta  quce  ducit  ad  vitam,'  the   strait   gate  and 
narrow  way  which  doth   lead  unto  life.     Wherefore, 
being  pressed  hard  by  his  enemy,  the  fugitive  calleth 
upon  God,  and  voweth  liimself  as  a  holy  offering  unto 
his  Son,  and  lo !   the  gate  of  Heaven  at  last  spreads 
itself  to  receive  him   into  an    invincible  sanctuary, 
against  which  both   men  and  demons  may   strive  in 
vain." 

"A  most  goodly  morality  truly!"  hereupon  ex- 
claimed another  of  our  company  ;  "  who  might  have 
deemed,  now,  that  such  wisdom  lurked  in  that  old 
story  >  I  trow  that   I've   oft-times  heard  it  told  and 


324  TIIK    I^AST    OF    THE    PI-ANTAGKNETS. 

sung,  and  looked  on  tlie  brazen  image  of  the  Knight 
at  Walsingliam,  and  many  other  goodly  sights  there, 
albeit  I  never  yet  thought  a  word  of  the  mystery 
thereof.  And  speaking  of  goodly  sights,  my  masters, 
I  trow  that  one  of  the  fairest  that  can  be  looked  upon, 
will  be  when  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  shall  sing  the 
high-mass  at  Bermondsey  Abbey  at  Easter,  and  give 
the  veil  unto  certain  noble  ladies  who  were  wont  to 
dwell  there,  for  the  more  honour  to  that  House :  and 
men  say  that  one  of  them  is  the  sister  of  the  late 
King  Edward  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  Lady  Bride 
Plantagenet,  who  is  even  now  lodging  there." 

At  that  beloved  name  it  is  no  marvel  if  I  started, 
as  in  truth  I  did,  inwardly  resolving  to  be  present  at 
her  Consecration,  and  even  devising  how  I  might 
behold  her  before  that  rite  should  pirt  her  from  me 
for  ever.  But  suppressing  my  present  transports  for 
awhile,  that  I  might  get  more  knowledge  lierein,  I 
questioned  him  who  had  last  spoken,  with  what  calm- 
ness I  could,  if,  peradventure,  he  knew  in  what  part 
of  the  Abbey  the  Lady  Bride  was  lodging. 

"  Aye,  marry,"  answered  he,  "  for  I  dwell  not  far 
distant,  and  I  have  often  marked  her  lamp  in  her 
chamber  in  the  Abbot's  house,  overlooking  his  fair 
garden  and  maze.  I  wot,  moreover,  that  she  ever 
walks  forth  on  that  green-sward  to  chaunt  her  hymns 
at  even-tide." 

Hereupon  I  did  enquire  no  farther,  but  hastily 
quitted  the  table  at  the  hostel  with  an  anxious  heart. 


THK    LAST    OF    TIIK    P/.ANTAGENETS.  .S25 

and  walked  forth  into  the  highway  of  Houthwark  to 
consider  how  I  might  best  shape  iriy  future  course. 
It  was  a  clear  and  fresh  Spring  even,  and  the  young 
moon  was  riding  high  in  the  heavens,  and  it  seemed 
unto  me  near  the  fitting  hour  to  adventure  what  I 
had   thus  hastily  thought  on ;  for  that  in  the  broad 
day-light  I  might  not  hope  to  seek  an  interview  with 
a  professed    virgin   at    the   Abbey    of    Bermondsey. 
Whilst  I  thus  pondered,  my  footsteps  all  unwittingly 
wandered  thither,  but  when  I  had  thus  arrived  there 
I  knew  not  at  first  how  to  effect  mine  intent,  and  I 
roved  around  the  Abbey  like  one  crazed  with  moody 
madness;  yet  finding  neither  cunning  to  proceed  nor 
resolution   to    withdraw.     It   might  be  that  I  passed 
nearly  an  hour  of  perplexed  and  lonely  musing,  often 
looking  toward   the  Lady  Bride's  window,   when    I 
bethought  me  that,  as  it  was  near  the  time  of  Coniplin, 
wlien  the  Brethren  would  be  at  prayers,  perchance  I 
might  be  able   to  mount  the  wall  of  the  Abbey-gar- 
den, and  meet  with  her  in  that  even  walk  whereof  the 
guest  at  the  Tabard  had  told  me.     But  upon  looking 
at  the  lofty  boundaries  which  girdled  in  that  ancient 
House,   I   almost  gave  up  the  enterprise  in   despair, 
until   I    noted   that   on    the    Nortli    side,    where  the 
Church  of  St.  Mary  IMagdalen  joined  unto  the  Abbey- 
wall,  the  same  was  greatly  decayed  and  ialkn  away  ; 
perchance  because  some  of  the  Abbots,  coveting  rather 
to  fill   their  own  purses  than  to  keep  up  the  fence  of 
God's  fold,  had  let  the  stone  boundary  sink  into  ruin. 


320  THK    I. AST    OK    TIIK    PLANTAGKNETS. 

And  here  I  saw,  that  although  it  might  prove  no  easy 
matter  to  scale  it  from  within,  yet  might  I  with  small 
labour  surmount  the  wall  from  without ;  since,  by 
reason  of  the  manifold  burials  there,  the  earth  of  the 
graves  and  dust  of  the  mouldering  bodies  had  much 
raised  the  ground  ;  and,  farther,  a  table-tomb  unto  the 
memory  of  Master  Geoffrey  Gresham,  the  far-famed 
Fletcher,  had  been  reared  by  that  part  of  the  wall 
which  was  most  decayed.  Upon  this  tomb  lay  the  rare 
effigy  of  the  rich  Fletcher,  with  his  staunch  hound 
carved  at  his  feet,  and  by  these  I  saw  that  I  could 
easily  mount  and  lower  myself  on  the  other  side,  by 
making  a  cord  fast  round  the  dogs  head,  or  elsewhere 
as  I  listed ;  ascending  again  unto  the  Church-yard 
when  I  had  seen  the  damsel,  or  when  danger  ap- 
proached to  bid  me  escape. 

I  saw  in  this  device  such  hope  of  success,  that  I 
did  at  once  determine  to  provide  me  with  a  ladder  of 
cord, — which  I  might  easily  get  me  in  Southwark, — 
because,  the  good  hour  was  now  wearing  fast  away. 
When  I  returned  unto  Bermondsey,  the  bell  had 
already  tolled  the  hour  of  seven,  the  service  of 
Coinplifi  was  being  sung,  and  the  Brethren  were  all 
in  their  Church  ;  I  did  therefore  presently  take  forth 
my  cords,  which  were  knotted  together  like  the 
shrouds  of  a  vessel,  and,  making  them  fast  unto  the 
tomb,  ascended  thereon,  and  committed  myself  unto 
Providence.  Having,  as  I  have  before  noted,  already 
been  at  this  Abbey,  I  well  knew  that  the  left-hand  walk. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  327 

South  of  the  Church,  would  lead  me  unto  the  Prior's 
maze,  being  a  grove  of  lilacs  and  overhanging  labur- 
num-trees, which  was  wont  to  be  the  Lady  Bride's 
walk  at  even;  wherein  I  might  well  secure  me  from 
all  notice.  And  so  mounted  I  the  wall  with  cautious 
and  silent  movements,  and  seeing  none  within  to 
oppose  my  passage,  I  forthwith  descended  into  that 
tranquil  spot,  which  as  it  were  lay  sleeping  before 
me,  in  all  the  calm  beauty  of  a  spring-tide  moonlight. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A     NIGHT-ADVENTURE    AT     BERMONDSEY     ABBEY 
BEFORE    it's    DISSOLUTION. 


I'll  tell  thee,  by  my  faithen, 

That  sometimes  I  have  known 
A  fair  and  goodly  Abbey, 

Stand  here  of  brick  and  stone  ; 
And  many  a  holy  friar, 

As  I  may  say  to  thee. 
Within  these  goodly  cloisters 

I  did  full  often  see. 
Ballad  of  Plain  Tki'th  and  Blind  Ignorance. 

It  were  a  world  to  tell  what  then  I  thought. 

What  joy  I  saw,  what  pleased  my  listening  ear, 
What  hand  I  held  that  free  consent  had  brought. 

What  haste  I  had  that  constant  truth  did  bear  : 

*  »  *  * 

But  lo  !  Alas  !  they  were  but  shadow'd  shews, 
For,  when  I  woke,  my  summer  sun  was  gone  ? 

My  wonted  clouds  within  my  head  arose 

And,  storming,  straight  thus  'gan  I  make  my  moan : 

"Ah  !  Goddts  good  !  why  do  I  live  again. 

To  lose  my  joy,  and  find  my  former  pain  ?" 

The  Gardbn-Plot,   by  Henbv  Goldingham. 

When  I  thus  found  me  alone  within  the  gardens  of 
Bermondsey  Abbey,  my  soul  became  filled  with  a 
pious  and  solemn  feeling  well  befitting  that  holy  place, 


THK    LAST    OF    THK    PliANTAGENETS.  329 

thougli  blent  with  doubts  and  hopes  touching  my 
present  enterprise.  These  did  keep  me  for  some  brief 
space,  riveted,  as  it  were,  unto  the  spot  whereon  I 
stood,  and  intently  gazing  vipon  the  scene  around  me  ; 
so  that  I  do  well  remember  how  looked  that  Abbey, 
ere  it  was  resigned  by  it's  coward  Abbot  unto  the 
second  Harry  Tudor,*  who  seized  upon  many  a  fair 
heritage  with  which  good  men  of  old  had  endowed 
the  Church,  and  gave  unto  others  that  which  was 
in  truth  not  his  own.  They  who  now  behold  this 
place,  I  wot  shall  see  but  little  of  what  I  have  here 
noted  ;  because  the  most  part  of  those  fair  buildings 
which  were  once  devoted  unto  the  service  of  God, 
have  been  thrown  down,  and  the  very  stones  thereof 


•  It  has  been  supposed  that  Robert  Wharton,  or  Parfew, 
the  last  Abbot  of  Bermondsey,  and  successor  to  John  de  Mar- 
low,  mentioned  in  the  above  narrative,  was  actually  put  into 
that  office  by  the  Court,  that  he  might  surrender  the  Abbey  and 
it's  revenues  to  the  crown.  This  he  did  by  a  voluntary  in- 
strument of  resignation  dated  January  1st,  in  the  29th  year  of 
Henry  VIII.,  1538,  anticipating  the  Act  for  suppressing  the 
greater  lleligious  Houses,  which  passed  July  2!)th  in  the  next 
year.  The  Abbot  had  been  made  Bishop  of  St.  Asajjli  in  June, 
1536,  and  on  his  surrender  received  a  pension  of  ."iOO  marks, 
.€333  :  6*.  Sd.  Bermondsey  Abbey  was  granted  in  1541  to  Sir 
Robert  Southwell,  Master  of  the  Rolls,  who  sold  it  to  Sir 
Thomas  Pope  in  the  same  year,  by  whom  the  ancient  conven- 
tual buildings  were  taken  down,  and  a  mansion  erected  with 
the  materials  as  referred  to  in  the  text. 


330  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

used  to  set  up  a  vain-glorious  dwelling-place  for 
man. 

But  I  will  now  assay  to  picture  it,  as  I  beheld  it 
nearly  fifty  years  past,  before  it's  candlestick  was 
moved  out  of  it's  place. — I  have  afore  said  that  the 
young  moon  shone  brightly  over  grange  and  green- 
sward, lighting  and  gilding  refectory  and  hall,  church 
and  dormitory  with  it's  lustre:  for  upon  my  right  hand 
spread  out  the  Abbot's  curious  maze  and  fair  garden, 
with  the  long  trim  alleys  and  winding  walks  thereof. 
Before  me  arose  his  stately  stone  lodgings,  standing  in 
the  great  Base-Court ;  and  behind  me  was  the  Abbey- 
Church,  the  windows  a\  hereof  were  shining  with  the 
light  within,  Avhilst  the  swell  of  the  organ  and  slow 
psalm  of  the  monks,  came  ever  and  anon  upon  the 
fresh  gale  of  even  as  it  passed  me  by.  On  mine  other 
hand  stood  the  great  North  gate,  and  the  dwellings 
and  offices  of  the  Brethren ;  and  far  out  upon  the 
South,  I  might  discern  the  warren,  grange,  and  pas- 
ture-fields of  the  Abbot. 

Having  thus  for  a  brief  space  gazed  around  me, 
almost  lost  in  thought,  I  did  next  turn  me  unto  the 
little  grove  of  which  the  pilgrim  had  spoken,  and, 
forcing  aside  the  leaves  and  branches  thereof,  presently 
so  concealed  myself  in  it's  bower,  that  I  was  assured 
that  none,  who  should  not  part  the  trees  as  I  had 
done,  might  perceive  that  a  stranger  was  there  hidden. 
The  same  holy  silence  seemed  to  reign  around  that 
spot,  yet  was  not  mine  own  breast  without  somewhat 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  331 

of  disquiet,  since  I  felt  that  my  present  act  Avas  one 
which  I  might  not  openly  avow ;  for  though  I  pur- 
posed nought  but  good  in  again  seeking  to  behold  the 
Lady  Bride,  yet  did  I  question  with  myself  whether 
I  were  not  sinful,  in  thus  covertly  approaching  a  spot 
which  was  consecrated  unto  the  service  of  God.  Ne- 
vertheless these  thoughts  were  full  soon  put  to  flight, 
by  doubts  and  fears  that  peradvcnture  I  had  outstaid 
the  Lady  Bride's  hour,  and  so  should  not  behold  her 
even  now  that  I  was  within  the  walls  of  the  very 
place  of  her  sojourn.  But  as  the  moon  went  down 
the  sky,  and  the  light  passed  away,  the  rising  gale 
swept  along  the  leaves  which  formed  my  bower, 
and  brought  with  it  strains  of  sweet  and  holy  music. 
At  first  methought  it  was  only  the  choral  swell  of  the 
monks  in  their  Abbey,  but  anon  I  knew  the  voice  ard 
found  it  to  be  in  the  garden  itself;  and  these  were 
the  words  which  came  unto  mine  hearing. 

EVENING  HYMN  OF  THE  LADY  BRIDE  PT.ANTAGENET, 

Before  the  closing  of  the  light, 

God  of  our  life,  we  cry  to  Thee, 
That  through  the  darkness  of  the  night 

Thy  wonted  care  may  round  us  be ; 

And  that  Thy  mercy,  great  and  free, 
May  keep  all  evil  sprites  away. 
Until  the  dawning  of  the  day. 

DOMINE,  Cr.AMO  AT)  Te, 

DOMINE,  KXAini  Mi;  ! 


832  THE    LAST    OK    THK    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

The  visions  of"  the  midnight  hour 

Do  Thou  from  sin  all  holv  keep, 
That  no  foul  dreams  nor  j)hantom's  power 

May  stain  our  souls,  or  fright  our  sleep : 

I5ut  chain  them  in  the  fiery  deep, 
That  neither  night  nor  noon  may  find 
The  Demon's  spells  within  our  mind. 

DOMINE,  CLAMO  AD  Te, 
DOMINE,  EXAUDI    ME  ! 

Thus,  ever  prove  our  hope  and  stay, 
Our  shield  when  danger  doth  affright ; 

<^)ur  Pillar  of  the  Cloud  l)y  day, 

Our  fiery  column  through  the  night : 
Until  we  reach  Thy  realm  of  light 

Where  our  glad  souls  shall  ever  be 

Glorious  and  safe, — because  with  Thee  ! 

DoMINE,  AD  Te  CLAMAMUS, 
Et  in  S.'ECULTTM  LAUDAMUS  ! 

The  sound  of  this  music  was  so  sweet  unto  me,  that 
neither  by  speech  nor  movement,  and  scarcely  by 
breathing,  did  I  interrupt  the  harmony  ;  and  even 
when  all  was  hushed  I  still  continued  to  listen.  How- 
beit,  anon  I  heard  approaching  feet,  and  two  females 
drew  nigh  unto  my  hiding-place,  one  of  whom  mine 
anxious  eyes  soon  discovered  to  be  the  Lady  Bride  ; 
and  the  other  methought  I  remembered  as  one  of  those 
Austin  Nuns  whom  I  had  seen  with  her  at  Windsor, 
and  who  seemed  to  be  counselling  her  as  to  the  holy 
duties  whereon  she  should  soon  enter  for  life.     "  And 


THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGKNBT3.  333 

furthermore,  dear  Sister,"  I  might  well  hear  her  say, 
"  when  that  ye  retire  luito  your  bed,  bless  you  with  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  committing  your  soul  and  body  unto 
your  spouse  Christ,  and  the  keeping  of  your  good 
Angel.  Then  lay  you  down  reverently  with  your 
arms  crossed  upon  your  breast,  being  diligently  aware 
of  vain  thoughts,  and  (juickly  putting  aw'ay  of  vain 
temptations ;  and,  if  you  may  not  sleep,  then  occupy 
yourself  with  prayers  or  with  your  rosary,  because 
your  adversary  the  Fiend  never  sleepeth." 

I  now  noted  that  the  Lady  Bride  did  desire  of  her 
companion,  to  leave  her  aw  hile  unto  her  own  medita- 
tions in  that  fair  and  lonely  spot ;  for  that  she  would 
ponder  over  the  Rule  whereto  she  was  to  be  conse- 
crated. "And  herein  do  I  much  commend  you.  Sister 
Bride,"  responded  the  Nun,  "  for  it  is  profitable  and 
ghostly  lore  to  think  much  upon  our  Rule  of  Life, 
with  the  Exposition  thereof  by  the  holy  Abbot  Hugh 
of  St.  Victoire.  Ever  live  up  unto  it,  I  pray  you, 
keep  it,  read  it,  know  it  by  heart  and  practice,  declare, 
teach,  and  openly  shew  it :  that  so  you  may  reck  not 
who  sees  or  marks  it,  and  be  afraid  of  nought,  that 
being  duly  held  and  performed.  Benedicite,  Sister, 
tarry  not  long  in  the  garden,  and  so  I  commit  you  unto 
God." 

The  Nun  then  presently  left  the  noble  Novice,  and 
I  heard  a  door  close  after  her  departure,  whereupon 
I  could  scarcely  believe  mine  own  good-fortune,  in 
thus  having  so  speedily  the  chance  whicli  I  liad  doubt- 


334  THE    I^AST    OK    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

fully  hoped  foi* :  and  yet  when  the  Lady  Bride  next 
drew  near  me  in  her  pious  musings,  I  feared  to  pre- 
sent myself  unto  her  on  the  sudden,  lest  I  should 
alarm  her;  or,  peradventure,  be  exposed  unto  the 
view  of  some  watcher.  Howbeit,  as  the  time  was 
now  hastily  wearing,  whilst  she  was  turned  from  me 
I  left  the  bower,  and,  having  looked  around  to  see  if 
any  were  near,  and  being  satisfied  that  none  were 
present  beside  that  fair  damsel  and  myself,  I  cau- 
tiously went  towards  her  and  addressed  her  with 
much  lowliness  of  speech.  Nevertheless,  full  great 
was  her  amaze  at  the  sight  of  me  and  sound  of  my 
voice,  as  she  demanded,  with  almost  breathless  haste, 
why  1  had  so  ventured  unto  her  who  had  now  no 
part  in  the  world  ;  conjuring  me  forthwith  to  save 
myself  by  flight. 

"  Think  not  of  my  safety.  Lady,"  answered  I, 
"  since  it  is  all  too  unworthy  to  deserve  the  care  of  one 
so  noble  and  pious  as  yourself.  Yet  did  I  desire  to 
behold  you  once  more  ere  you  depart  from  the  world, 
to  assure  you  of  mine  entire  devotion,  and  to  say 
that  if  even  by  the  sacrifice  of  my  life  I  can  serve 
you,  it  will  be  indeed  a  happiness  unto  me  to  lay  it 
down." 

"  I  doubt  not  of  your  devotion,  kind  friend,"  re- 
plied the  noble  Novice,  "  since  I  have  proved  it  too 
often  to  make  question  thereof;  but  remember  that  I 
have  nothing  now  either  to  hope  or  fear  in  this  world, 
and,  therefore,  the  looser  be  my  ties  unto  it  the  more 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  335 

easily  will  they  be  severed.  If,  then,  thou  comest 
hither  only  to  express  thy  good-will  unto  me,  believe 
that  I  know  and  feel  it,  peradventure  more  than  I 
ought :  take  my  thanks,  then,  and  depart,  for,  credit 
me,  thy  danger  is  great  shouldest  thou  be  discovered." 

I  now  explained  unto  the  Lady  Bride,  how  that  I 
had  heard  by  chance  of  her  being  presently  at  Ber- 
mondsey,  the  which  had  made  me  resolve  to  see  her, 
if  it  might  be  effected,  and  take  mine  eternal  farewell 
of  her:  adding  thereto,  albeit  with  presumptuous 
speech,  that  I  feared  no  dangers,  since  in  such  an 
enterprise  I  would  almost  have  braved  the  wrath  of 
Heaven  itself! 

"  May  God  pardon  us  both  !  Richard,"  returned 
the  noble  Damsel,  looking  upwards,  "  and  for  thy 
bold  words,  it  seemeth  as  if  the  wrath  of  Heaven, 
whereof  thou  speakest  so  lightly,  were  eftsoons  about 
to  fall  upon  us.  Behold  how  fiercely  the  moon  hath 
sunken,  and  the  skies  are  overclouded ;  surely  we  are 
sinning,  and  I  most  so :  therefore  depart,  Plantagenet, 
whilst  yet  you  may  with  safety." 

And  even  as  she  spake,  I  could  not  but  note  that 
the  heavens  grew  darker  and  wondrously  disturbed 
by  the  rising  storm,  yet  from  this  I  felt  no  terror ; 
for  that  I  deemed  not  myself  or  mine  adventure  in 
that  place  had  called  it  forth  as  a  sign  of  vengeance 
from  on  high.  I  therefore  said  unto  her,  "Lady, 
believe  not  that  this  tempest  cometh  upon  us  in  anger, 
but  think  rather  that  it  depicteth  the  gloom  in  mine 


I 


33(i  THK  IjAst  ok  the   pi.antagknets. 

heart  and  the  wild  tumult  in  my  breast,  at  being  thus 
parted  from  you  for  ever."  I  did  also  entreat  her  not 
to  fear  for  mine  easy  escape  thence,  telling  her  of  the 
means  by  which  I  had  entered  the  Abbey-garden, 
and  adding  thereunto  mine  earnest  desire  that  she 
Avould  depart  with  me  by  the  same  course ;  for  that 
we  were  of  the  very  last  of  the  Houses  of  York  and 
Plantagenet,  and  'twere  pity  that  such  noble  names 
should  ever  die. 

"  Truly,"  responded  the  royal  Bride,  "  if  thou  art 
indeed  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's  son,  thou  art  the  last 
man  of  thy  name ;  for  my  hapless  cousin  Edward 
hath  already  fallen  on  the  scaffold,  though  his  sister 
Margaret  yet  lingereth  on  a  doubtful  life.*    Yet  if  we 


*  Edward  Plantagenet,  Earl  of  Warwick  and  Salisbury, 
eldest  son  and  heir  of  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  was  con- 
fined by  his  Uncle,  Richard  III.,  in  SherifF-Hutton  Castle, 
Yorkshire  ;  but  on  the  accession  of  Henry  VII.  was  removed 
to  the  Tower,  being  then  fifteen  years  old,  and  more  closely 
confined,  because  he  was  supposed  to  be  the  only  male  Plan- 
tagenet then  living.  Having  attempted  to  escape  with  Per- 
kin  Warbeck,  he  was  arraigned  of  high-treason,  being  charged 
with  attempting  to  rescue  that  adventurer  and  make  him 
King ;  when,  having  been  induced  by  a  promise  of  security, 
to  confess  that  with  which  he  was  wholly  unacquainted,  he  was 
condemned  and  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill,  November  28th, 
1499.  Margaret  Plantagenet,  his  sister,  survived  till  May 
27th,  1541,  when  she  also  was  decapitated,  though  without 
arraignment  or  trial. 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  337 

he  the  last  of  our  lineage,  let  us  not  tarnish  it's  lustre 
by  an  act  which  is  dishonourable  and  unlawful ;  and 
such  I  ween  would  be  to  fly  with  thee,  from  the  holy 
pi-ofession  which  I  have  made  unto  Heaven." 

As  she  spake  thus,  I  had  gently  drawn  her  towards 
the  place  whereat  I  had  entered,  to  assure  her  of  my 
safety  and  the  means  of  conveying  her  thence;  by 
shewing  her  the  ladder  of  cord  hanging   upon  the 
wall,  for  I  doubted  not  that  it  would  be  still  there. 
But,  lo !  it  was  now  no-Avhere  to  be  seen,  and  not- 
withstanding I  searched  all  around  I  looked  for  it  in 
vain.     I  was  much  dismayed  hereat,  albeit  I  sought, 
as  I  best  might,  to  hide  my  loss  from  the  gentle  Lady 
Bride ;    yet  did  she  quickly  note  the  cause  of  my 
perplexity,  and  said,  in  a  voice  of  tender  sorrow,  that 
she  deemed  my  sanguine  hopes  had  trusted  unto  un- 
equal means  of  escape,  and  that  now  my  danger  was 
all  too  certain.    "  Dearest  Lady,"  replied  I,  hereupon 
greatly    encouraged   by  the  anxiety  which    she  had 
shewn  for  me,    "  Dearest  Lady,  fear  not ;  but  even 
should  I  be  taken  in  this  adventure,  in  what  better 
cause  than  your's  can  I  lay  down  my  life.?    This  is 
unto  me  an  hour  of  deepest  interest,  as  was  that  in 
the  Canons'  chambers  at  Windsor,  and  I  will  affaiu 
use  all  sincerity  in  my  speech,  and  say.  Lady  Bride, 
how  fervently  I  love  you.    Believe  me,  if  the  Hghten- 
ing-flashes,   now   darting   from    yonder  cloud,   could 
shine  into  my  breast,  you  would  behold  in  it  a  heart, 
which,  from  the  first  time  I  heard  your  blessed  name. 


338  THE    LAST    OF    THE  PIvANTAGENETS. 

hath  never  ceased  to  beat  for  you  with  the  liveliest 
devotion;  and  whilst  life  is  given  unto  it,  I  swear  by 
my  part  in  the  bliss  of  Eternity  that  it  shall  beat  for 
no  other  !" 

"  I  can  well  think  thee  faithful,  Richard,"  responded 
the  Lady  Bride,  "  yet  say  it  not  unto  me,  I  pray  thee, 
since  it  is  now  all  unmeet  for  me  to  speak  of  earthly 
love ;  albeit  if  mortal  excellence  could  win  mine  heart, 
thy  generous  passion  for  me  would  assviredly  do  it. 
But  this  may  not  be,  therefore  take  back  thy  pro- 
mise, and  give  thy  vows  unto  those  who  live  for  this 
world,  since  I  am  all  devoted  unto  another." 

There  was  in  her  demeanour,  as  it  seemed,  a  settled 
purpose  which  well  attested  her  sincerity ;  yet,  as  I 
sighed  despondingly  at  her  words,  methought  she 
appeared  touched  by  my  sorrow,  although  I  dare  not 
say  that  she  shared  it :  like  as  a  pitying  angel 
mourneth  over  the  weakness  of  humanity,  even  whilst 
his  heavenly  nature  keepeth  it  from  his  own  breast. 
The  noble  Bride  did  moreover  give  farther  proof  of 
her  benevolence  towards  me,  by  drawing  from  her 
hand  a  ring  with  a  rich  gem,  bearing  for  it's  impress 
the  sign  of  the  holy  cross ;  and,  giving  it  unto  me, 
bade  me,  with  consoling  speech,  to  wear  it,  not  for 
her  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  Him  whose  sign  was 
graven  upon  it.  I  received  her  gift  with  much  rap- 
ture, and  I  trow  never  did  I  so  deeply  lament  my 
narrow  fortune,  as  I  did  in  bethinking  me  that  I  had 
nouglit  to  give  unto  her  in  return.     Howbeit,  I  re- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  339 

niemberctl  tJiat  in  my  bosom  I  had  a  little  book  of 
Offices,  partly  written  and  illumined  by  mine  own 
hand,  fairly  bound  in  red  velvet  'broidered  with  gold, 
and  this  I  hastily  took  forth,  and  besought  the  Lady 
Bride  to  receive  the  same  at  my  hands,  as  a  pledge 
that,  for  her  sake,  I  did  abjure  all  thouglit  of  wed- 
lock ;  adding  that  I  would  ever  wear  her  ring  when 
I  should  be  seen  of  woman,  that  so  I  might  be  known 
of  all  as  a  betrothed-one. 

"  Betrothed,  indeed  !"  responded  the  royal  Novice, 
"  not  unto  me,  but  unto  God  as  I  well  trust ;  for  His 
am  I,  and  the  best  wish  of  my  heart  for  thee  is  that 
thou  wcrt  the  same  !" 

She  could  say  no  more,  for  now  divers  lights,  be- 
side those  which  flashed  from  the  stormy  skies,  came 
forth  from  all  parts  of  the  building  and  filled  the 
garden,  whilst  loud  and  angry  voices  on  every  side 
declared  that  a  stranger  had  entered  it's  holy  precincts; 
the  which  at  once  shewed  unto  me  that  discovery  had 
taken  place,  albeit  I  knew  not  how,  and  that  escape 
was  now  impossible.  Howbeit  I  manned  myself  to 
meet  them  as  I  best  might ;  but  the  Lady  Bride,  over- 
come at  once  by  fear  for  my  safety,  the  increased  vio- 
lence of  the  storm,  and  the  pious  conflicts  within  her 
own  breast,  sank  down  and  swooned  upon  mine  arm  : 
whilst  I  supported  her  with  what  tenderness  I  could, 
taking  off  my  coarse  Pilgrim's  mantle  and  wrapjjing 
it  around  her.  Those  whose  coming  had  been  thus 
tumultuously  made  known  unto  us,  soon  drew  near. 


340 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAOENETS, 


being  a  band  of  divers  servitors  of  the  Abbey,  hastily 
summoned  together  by  the  Lord  Abbot  on  the  tidings 
which  he  had  received  ;  with  whom  they  proceeded 
unto  the  garden,  to  put  forth,  or,  perad venture,  to 
secure  for  vengeance,  the  sacrilegious  intruder  who 
had  violated  the  hallowed  sanctuary. 

"  Holy  St.  ]\Iary  !"  exclaimed  the  Lord  Abbot  as 
he  approached  the  spot  whereon  the  Lady  Bride  and 
myself  were  standing,  and  the  light  of  the  torches, 
with  which  the  various  servitors  pressed  forward, 
flashed  upon  us, — "  Blessed  St.  Mary !  what  do  I 
behold  } — the  Lady  Bride  ! — Now,  may  God  so  speed 
us,  as  we  would  have  held  this  a  foul  slander,  had  we 
not  seen  with  our  own  eyes  the  daughter  of  a  King 
and  sister  of  a  Queen  consorting  with  a  night-ruffian  ! 
one  of  whom  our  Lord  well  speaketh  in  the  Gospel, 
saying  '  Qui  non  intrat  per  ostium  in  ovile  oviuyn,  sed 
asccndil  aliunde,  illefur  est,  et  lutro  ;'  he  who  entereth 
not  by  the  door  into  the  sheepfold,  but  climbeth  up 
some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber. 
Seize  him,  therefore,  my  children,  let  him  not 'scape; 
for  if  justice  be  maintained  in  England,  it  must  fall 
upon  such  as  profane  the  Houses  of  God." 

The  servitors  whom  he  brought  with  him  were  not 
slow  to  execute  his  commands  with  much  contumely 
and  reviling,  so  that  it  was  almost  in  vain  for  me 
to  attempt  to  speak,  whilst  many  hands  at  once 
grasped  my  garments  and  restrained  my  limbs. — 
Nevertheless   the  Lady    Bride  still    clung   unto  me 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGBNETS.  341 

senseless,   Avhereupon   I  shook   myself  free  from  the 
servitors,  and  bearing  her  unto  the  Abbot,  resigned 
her  unto  him  ;  bidding  him  work  his  will  with  me,  so 
that  she  were  instantly  conveyed  unto  a  fitting  shel- 
ter.    This  he  straightway  commanded  to  be  done, — 
and  so  were  Ave  again  parted ;  yet  natheless  I  felt  me 
glad,  even  in  that  troublous  hour,  when  I  found  that 
the  swooning  of  the  Lady  Bride  brought  upon  my 
head  all  the  fault  wliich  I   feared  should  have  fallen 
upon  her's.     For  now  the  Abbot,  again  taking  up  the 
word,  addressed  me  with  '•  Monster  of  impiety  !  love 
of  godliness  1  well   deem   thou  liast  none,  yet  do  I 
marvel   that  thou    hast   lost  all    sense  of  fear;    for 
though  thou  mightest  brave  the  power  of  man,  yet 
how  didst  thou  dare,  presumptuous  as  even  thou  art, 
to  defy  the  wrath    of  Heaven   which    cometh  forth 
against  thee  from  the  skies?    Wast  thou  not  afraid 
to  attempt    beguiling  the  daughter  of  a  Sovereign, 
or  to  withdraw  from  lier  holy  'spousals  the  innocent 
lamb  devoted  unto  the  cloister  ?  and  that  too,  even  in 
the  storm  which  spake  full  loudly  how  the  anger  of 
God  was  already  kindled  against  thee." 

His  tone  was  not  less  solemn  than  reproachful, 
and,  deeming  me  guilty,  I  have  since  thouglit  that 
he  might  well  speak  thus,  and  point  for  confirmation 
of  his  words  unto  the  skies,  which  were  still  ever 
and  anon  bright  with  the  lightening.  Then,  noting 
the  heavy  torrents  of  rain  which  Avere  falling,  he 
stopped  mine  attempted  reply,  saying,  "  And  even  the 


342 


THE    IvAiST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS . 


waters  that  now  deluge  tlie  earth  seem^  with  fitting 
emblem,  to  reproach  tliy  crime,  as  if  the  skies  wept 
that  such  daring  evil  should  stain  the  beauty  of 
God's  lower  world. — But  the  tempest  rages  fiercely ; 
lead  on  the  prisoner,  my  children,  and  let  us  go 
hence." 

They  who  had  me  in  charge,  then  quickly  and 
rudely  hurried  me  from  the  garden  into  the  broad 
Abbey-hall^  where  a  fire  was  blazing,  and  many 
persons  were  assembled  full  curious  to  know  more 
of  that  night's  adventure.  Of  this  company  there 
was  one  whom  I  had  in  no  wise  thought  to  behold, 
being  none  other  than  the  rustic  Pilgrim  from  the 
Tabard  hostel.  1  soon  found  that  it  was  he  who  had 
betrayed  me  unto  the  Abbot ;  for  he  recounted  how 
it  had  been  told  at  the  Inn,  that  the  Lady  Bride  was 
presently  living  at  Bermondsey  until  her  Consecration 
at  Easter;  how  he  had  marked  my  sudden  starting 
and  going  forth ;  and  how  he  had  closely  dogged  my 
steps,  watched  mine  actions,  and  finally  removed  my 
ladder :  catching  up  and  repeating,  moreover,  those 
half-uttered  words  by  which  men  do  oft-times  indi- 
cate their  concealed  purposes. 

"And  what  evil  had  I  done  unto  thee,"  said  I 
at  length,  looking  full  sternly  at  mine  accuser,  "  that 

thou  shouldest  thus  malevolently Ha!  —  what ! 

Bernard  Schalken  !"  I  exclaimed,  as  the  light  for  a 
moment  fell  full  upon  his  fierce  and  reckless  visage, 
and  his    hair   was    suddenly    blown     aside, — "is    it 


THE    LAST    OV    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  343 

indeed  Bernard  Schalken  ?  nay,  then,  I  will  de- 
mand no  farther  of  one  to  whom  good  faith  is  all 
unknown." 

"What  says  this  man,  fellow  ?"  then  enquired  the 
Abbot  of  Bermondsey,  "  art  thou  in  truth  that  Ber- 
nard Schalken,  who  served  Sir  James  Tyrrell,  what 
time  the  deaths  of  the  Princes  Edward  and  Richard 
were  in  question,  and  who  afterwards  passed  into  the 
train  of  the  late  usurper's  favourite.  Sir  Gilbert  De 
Mountford  ? — If  thou  art  indeed  he,  begone  at  once, 
nor  hope  for  entertainment  here :  since  thou  hast 
ever  had  the  name  of  a  brawling  and  violent  soldier, 
and  so  art  all  unfit  to  serve  in  a  House  consecrated 
unto  God." 

"  Wliy  I  trow  well,"  hereunto  replied  the  rude  Sol- 
dier, "  that  there  may  be  holier  ones  than  your  wan- 
dering lance-men,  and  that  I've  been  no  better  than 
my  fellows :  but  then  I  wot  that  I've  journeyed  both 
to  Canterbury  and  Walsingham,  to  get  me  absolution 
from  all  that  I've  done  heretofore,  and  so  I  threw  the 
load  of  my  sins  into  the  cowls  of  the  priests  who  took 
my  confession  there.  And,  now,  by  the  IMass !  I  take 
myself  to  be  all  another  man,  and  a  mighty  good 
Christian  ;  whereof  I  took  tliis  certificate  from  tlie 
friars  that  absolved  me.  Well  I  deem  that  I  bade 
them  make  it  an  ample  testimonial,  on  peril  of  their 
bones,  albeit  I  read  neither  Latin  nor  English.  An 
ye  desire,  therefore,  for  somewhat  to  recommend  me 
to  your  favour,  Lord  Abbot,  read  me  o'er  this  scroll, 


344      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

the  which,  the    priests    said,   should    speed  me   any 
where." 

And  with  these  irreverent  words  Bernard  Schalken 
drew  forth  a  piece  of  vellum,  with  two  names  and 
signs  of  the  cross  subscribed  thereunto,  the  which 
when  the  Abbot  had  read,  he  answered  in  somewhat 
of  a  scoffing  voice,  "  Truly  this  certificate  shall  speed 
thee  away  from  every  place  where  thou  shalt  shew 
it ;  for  I  see  that  the  good  priests  who  have  subscribed 
it  deem  of  thee  much  as  I  do.  Howbeit,  in  the  hope 
that  the  knowledge  of  this  writing  may  lead  thee 
unto  repentance  and  amendment  of  life,  listen  whilst 
I  construe  it  unto  thee. 

" '  Forasmuch  as  I  find  Bernard  Schalken,  the 
bearer  hereof,  to  be  a  brawling  robber  and  lewd  and 
impenitent  soldier,  I  absolve  him  from  all  his  good 
deeds,  of  which  I  find  few  or  none  in  him  ;  and  I 
restore  unto  him  all  his  evil  acts,  whereof  he  hath  an 
abundance, — until  he  shall  repent  him  heartily,  make 
restitution  for  his  plunder  and  life  of  violence,  and 
resolve,  by  God's  gi*ace,  to  live  hereafter  unto  His 
glory.  Witness  my  hand,  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Mat- 
thias the  Apostle,  the  Sixth  of  the  Calends  of  March  : 
Nicholas  Blunt,  Priest  of  the  Shrine  of  Our  Lady 
at  Walsingham. 

" '  I  also  do  fully  concur  in  the  foregoing,  and  in 
token  thereof  have  subscribed  my  name  unto  the 
same,  this  Sixth  of  the  Ides  of  IMarch,  the  comme- 
moration of  the  Forty  IMartyrs  of  Sebastc  :  Stephen 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  345 

Plainavays,  Priest  of  the  Shrine  of  St.  Thomas  of 
Canterbury,  Archbishop  and  INIartyr.'  "* 

"  How  now,  fellow,"  added  the  Abbot  unto  the 
Soldier  when  he  had  finished  reading  his  certificate, 
"  this  is  a  goodly  testimonial  unto  thy  life,  truly  ! 
what  sayest  thou  hereunto?" 

"  But  little  unto  you.  Lord  Abbot,"  then  responded 
the  unabashed  Bernard,  "  saving  that  I  ween  all 
priests  be  alike  knaves ;  but  to  others,  perchance,  I 
may  tell  a  longer  and  graver  tale  for  their  foul  leasing- 
making.  An  in  truth  I  be  not  absolved,  let  them  look 
to  it  who  made  me  think  so,  for  'twas  enough  that  I 
believed  it ;  and  well  I  wot  that  the  fragments  of 
the  fEiir  gold  chain  which  I  left  at  their  Shrines,  might 
have  blotted  out  worser  crimes  than  mine." 

"  Impenitent  and  hardened  man  !"  then  began  the 
Lord  Abbot  in  a  bold  and  severe  voice,  for  the  ho- 
nest zeal  whereof  I  could  not  but  laud  him  in  mine 
own  mind,  although  he  entreated  me  with  much  evil 
and  contumely, — "  Ill-minded  and  ignorant  sinner  ! 
is  the  offering  unto  God  of  such  a  base  portion  of  thy 
plunder,  like  a  maimed  and  spotted  sacrifice,  to  blot 
out  the  crimes  of  a  whole  life  of  violence,  rapine,  and 
blood  .^  In  truth  it  was  an  abomination,  being  like 
unto  that  whereof  the  Prophet  IMalachy  speaketh, 
saying,  '  Non  est  Mihi  voluntas  in  vobis,  elicit  Dominus 


"  Similar  language  to  the  above  is  actually  used  bv  Erasmus 
in  his  Colloquy  of  the  Life  of  a  Soldier. 


340  TXIK    LAST    OK    TIIIC    PLANTAGENETS. 

Exercituum,  et  miinus  7ion  suscipiam  dc  manu  veslra.' 
]My  will  is  not  in  you,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  I 
will  not  receive  an  offering  at  your  hands.  Believe  it, 
unhappy  man,  that  the  penitent  psalm  '  Miserere  me 
Deus,'  uttered  with  bended  knees  and  sorrowful 
heart  at  God's  altar,  with  a  single  penny  given  to  the 
poor,  and  a  firm  purpose  to  lead  a  new  life,  shall  do 
more  towards  winning  the  grace  of  Heaven,  than  if 
thou  hadst  walked  barefoot  from  hence  to  Palestine, 
and  gave  the  collected  spoil  of  thy  whole  life  unto  the 
shrines  of  Christendom.  Depart  from  hence,  speedily, 
since  thou  art  pollution  unto  our  house,  a  spot  of  le- 
prosy unto  our  walls.  I  enjoin  thee  no  penance,  since 
thy  very  lusts  and  crimes  will  at  last  be  heavier  than 
aught  which  I  could  impose;  therefore,  begone,  and, 
if  thou  canst,  repent  thee  and  amend  !" 

Hereupon  the  Lance-man  was  put  forth,  yet  as  he 
went  out,  methought  even  he  was  somewhat  abashed 
by  the  solemn  speech  of  the  Abbot,  since  he  said  "  A 
plague  upon  the  knaves  who  have  stirred  up  this  coil! 
and  a  mischief  be  upon  you,  too,  for  disturbing  my 
conscience  which  was  quiet  enow  before  !"  and  so  he 
departed  from  the  chamber. 

"  Having  purified  our  dwelling  of  one  evil-doer," 
the  Abbot  again  began,  looking  at  me  with  much 
contumely  and  anger,  "  it  now  remaineth  that  we  pro- 
ceed with  fitting  rigour  towards  another ;  towards 
him,  who,  like  the  worst  of  night-robbers,  hath  broken 
into  the  Lord's  heritage  in  the  hours  of  darkness." 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  347 

At  these  Avords  mine  anger  rose  quickly,  and  m}^ 
spirit  kindled  at  the  indignity  cast  upon  me,  so  that, 
had  mine  hands  been  free,  I  know  not  what  outrage 
I  might  have  committed ;  but  my  limbs  being  now 
under  close  restraint,  I  could  only  reply  unto  him  in 
a  haughty  tone,  "  Lord  Abbot,  I  pray  you  to  forbear 
this  speech,  seeing  that,  albeit  you  may  not  know  me, 
I  am  yet  of  noble  birth,  and  therefore  it  befits  neither 
myself  to  hear,  nor  you  to  utter  any  such  scorn." 

The  Abbot  was  not  slow  in  his  answer  hereunto, 
saying,  in  a  scoffing  voice,  "Marry,  one  might  well 
deem  that  some  ale-wife  or  host  had  been  full  boun- 
teous of  their  store  imto  thee,  which  hath  called  forth 
these  strange  dreams  of  greatness  in  thy  bemused 
brain  ;  seeming,  as  thou  dost,  to  be  little  better  than 
a  beggar." 

"  Beggar  !"  repeated  I  then,  with  wondrous  indig- 
nation, "  mark  me.  Sir  Priest,  that  name  belongs  not 
unto  me,  so  truly  as  it  doth  unto  yourself,  and  your 
hosts  of  idle  monks  and  cowled  compeers;  albeit 
ye  feed  richly,  lie  softly,  and  go  flaunting  in  the 
gayest  robes  vanity  can  devise  for  ye.  I  repeat  unto 
ye,  once  more,  that  I  am  of  the  noblest  blood  of  this 
nation ;  though  now,  by  stress  of  circumstance,  I  am 
subject  unto  thy  power  and  reviling  taunts, — yet  am  I 
still  neither  inferior,  nor  even  equal,  of  thine,  in  all  the 
pomp  and  pride  which  thou  canst  call  around  thee." 

"  An  boldness  in  evil  might  make  thee  great,"   re- 
turned the  Abbot  therewith,  "  truly  thou  wouldest  be 


34iJ  THE    LAST    OK    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

of  high  degree ;  but  I  now  bethink  me,  that  the 
caitiff  who  is  gone  affirmed  that  thou  wert  no  other 
than  the  issue  of  the  murtherous  Richard,  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  and  this,  perchance,  is  thy  boasted  great- 
ness." 

"  He  spake  the  sooth  for  once,"  answered  I  with 
lofty  voice,  "  for  I  am  indeed  the  son  of  the  noble 
King  Richard,  and  a  Plantagenet !" 

"  I  well  deem,"  replied  the  Abbot,  "  that  thou  art 
little  better  than  another  mean  adventurer  from  Bur- 
gundy ;  but,  whether  thy  speech  be  false  or  true,  me- 
thinks  thy  wit  must  be  at  a  low  ebb  to  hope  that  this 
name  would  advjmce  thee  unto  aught  but  a  scaffold. 
For  if  thou  wert  indeed  the  offspring  of  Richard,  what 
coulde&t  thou  be  but  his  vmlawful  issue,  and  son  to  a 
murtherer  slain  for  his  tyranny  and  crimes?  Thy 
lofty  birth,  therefore,  will  do  thee  but  small  good 
here ;  though,  being  faithfully  reported,  it  may  be 
of  some  slight  import  unto  King  Henry." 

"  Then  unto  him  be  it  told,"  answered  I,  with  scorn, 
"  I  fear  not  to  die,  or  to  add  my  blood  unto  that  of  the 
many  victims  whom  he  hath  already  cut  off  from 
my  noble  House  ;  and  he  will  find  me  full  worthy  of 
the  name  of  Plantagenet.  JMy  form  he  may  indeed 
reduce  unto  a  bloody  corse  upon  the  scaffold,  but  upon 
the  soul  that  animates  it  hath  he  no  power  ;  since  it's 
native  dignity  shall  never  be  abated,  even  when  I  bow 
me  unto  the  axe  of  the  headsman." 

"  That  triumph  may  indeed  be  thine,"  rejoined  the 


I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS.  349 

Abbot,  in  a  scoffing  tone,  "  and  as  thou  claimest  such 
high  dignity,  thou  shalt  have  fitting  honour  paid  thee, 
in  a  larger  guard  and  a  different  lodging  than  I  did  at 
first  purpose  for  thee.  On  the  word  of  an  Abbot  thy 
royalty  shall  be  carried  unto  a  palace,  and  I  will  give 
thee  a  brave  retinue  to  wait  around  thy  noble  person, 
until  thou  art  safely  bestowed  at  Sheen ;  or,  per- 
chance, until  thou  shalt  lack  a  guard  no  longer." 

At  this  moment  I  well  might  understand  the  great 
hazard  of  my  condition,  never  doubting  that  my  life 
was  indeed  forfeited ;  for  I  hud,  peradventure,  been 
too  rash  in  avowing  my  birth  and  noble  blood.  Yet, 
nevertheless,  the  thought  tliat  I  was  not  the  base  pei*- 
son  they  deemed  me,  and  the  consciousness  of  mine 
own  good  faith  in  entering  the  Abbey,  I  felt  would 
sustain  me  under  any  violence ;  and  I  looked  steadily 
forward  unto  mine  only  remaining  duty,  namely,  to 
die  like  the  son  of  a  King. 

In  the  meantime  the  Abbot  had  summoned  his 
Yeomen  to  arm  themselves,  mount,  and  carry  me  on 
to  the  Palace  of  Sheen,  where  the  Court  was  to  be  at 
the  Feast  of  Easter  ;  and  we  set  out  forthwith,  not- 
withstanding the  lateness  of  the  hour.  The  skies  were 
now  full  dark,  though  the  storm  was  over  ;  and,  after 
riding  hard  through  the  night,  by  about  the  liour  of 
Prime  we  arrived  at  that  most  stately  abode  for 
royalty,  which  Harry  Tudor  had  then  lately  erected, 
and  called  Richmond  after  his  own  title. 


I 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THR    CAPTIVE  S    STORY    OF    HIS    IMPRISONMENT. 


Because  by  birth  to  Kings  allied, — 
Ah  me  !  how  cruel  the  pretence  ! 

My  name  offends  the  ear  of  pride, 
My  being  born  is  mine  offence. 


And  who  can  tell  the  pangs  so  keen 

That  such  ill-fated  lovers  know  ? 
Where  towers  and  bars  arise  between, 

Dark  spies  above  and  guards  below. 

In  vain  for  me  the  sun  doth  rise. 

In  vain  for  me  the  moon  doth  shine. 
The  smiling  earth  ne'er  cheers  mine  eyes, 

Here  doom'd  in  misery  to  pine. 

Mickle's  Bai-lad  of  Arabella  Stuart. 

When  the  Abbot's  Yeomen  and  myself  arrived  at 
Sheen,  I  was  bestowed  in  a  strong  upper  chamber  in 
one  of  the  towers  of  that  fair  Palace;  in  the  which 
captivity  I  had  space  of  time  enow  to  think  over  my 
past  fortunes,  for  with  the  future  I  deemed  that  I  had 
now  little  or  nothing  to  do. 

Yet  even  in  that  place   of  mine  imprisonment,  I 
learned  some  things  concerning  the  fatal  night  whereof 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  351 

I  have  recounted  the  story,  and  that  cleared  up  certain 
of  the  dark  passages  of  my  life.  It  would  have  been 
no  marvel  had  my  soul  l)een  overcome  with  heaviness 
at  the  hazard  wherein  I  was  now  placed,  yet  did  I  feel 
less  for  myself  than  for  the  Lady  Bride,  whom  I  ever 
regarded  as  sacrificed  unto  Harry  Tudor's  jealousy  of 
the  House  of  York,  even  from  her  very  youth,  albeit 
she  was  so  well  fitted  for  the  veil  and  the  cloister.  It 
was  told  unto  me  by  my  rude,  though  friendly.  Keeper, 
that  after  my  departure  to  Sheen,  she  was  full  sternly 
reproved  and  dealt  with  for  my  sake ;  for  albeit  I  only 
was  guilty  herein,  yet  would  none  believe  that  I  had 
ventured  unto  her  of  mine  own  will  alone  :  therefore 
did  she  endure  a  twofold  mistrust,  being  thought  both 
to  have  invited  my  trespass,  and  after  perversely  to 
have  denied  it.  Hereupon  full  soon  was  the  royal 
Damsel  withdrawn  from  Bermondsey,  not  even  stay- 
ing her  purposed  Consecration,  and  conveyed  vmto  a 
remote  Convent,  the  name  whereof  was  carefully  hid- 
den from  my  knowledge  ;  and  I  did  fear  that  still  more 
rigorous  dealings  were  used  towards  her,  since,  I 
should  have  noted,  that  Henry  deemed  him  now  to 
have  small  tie  unto  her  House,  seeing  that  her  sister, 
the  Queen  Elizabeth,  had  deceased  on  the  11th  day 
of  February  in  the  year  1503.  The  thought  of  her 
sorrow,  made  yet  more  gloomy  the  sad  season  which  I 
passed  imprisoned  at  Sheen  ;  for  albeit  I  was  in  a  full 
stately  palace,  the  narrow  cliamber  where  I  was  con- 
fined was  heavily  barred  and  bolted,  and  little  better 


I 


352  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

for  it's  lonely  habitant,  than  the  murky  dungeon  of  a 
common  gaol. 

It  was  long  before  the  Council  came  together  at 
this  place,  for  that  Henry  and  his  IMinisters  were 
taken  up  with  devising,  how  best  to  strengthen  his 
throne  against  any  sudden  motion  in  favour  of  the 
House  of  York,  which  many  in  the  realm  still  affected ; 
and  they  feared,  moreover,  that,  as  in  truth  his  best 
claim  unto  the  crown  was  through  his  late  Queen, 
some  of  the  nation  should  think  that  he  could  hold  it 
only  in  trust  for  his  young  heir.  Harry  Tudor  had 
also  a  scheme  afoot  for  a  new  marriage  with  the  Queen- 
Dowager  of  Naples,  because  of  the  great  riches  which 
her  late  lord  had  willed  imto  her  ;  but  when  the  se- 
cret English  Commissioners  learned  that  she  should 
inherit  no  such  wealth,  they  were  recalled,  and  their 
master  thought  of  this  device  no  longer. 

About  the  Feast  of  Easter,  the  Privy-Council  all 
met  at  Sheen,  whither  Harry  himself  had  already 
come  in  great  pomp,  but,  as  I  beheld  his  followers 
unto  the  Palace  from  my  lofty  and  well-defended  win- 
dow, I  should  rather  have  said  \n  great  fear ;  else  why 
was  that  guard  around  him  of  tall  and  mounted 
Yeomen,  clad  in  his  liveries  of  red  and  blue,  half  being 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and  the  other  half  with 
harquebusses,  and  all  wearing  armour  with  great 
swords?  The  like  hereof  had  never  been  seen  in 
England,  until  Harry  established  them  in  fear  at  his 
Coronation,   and  had   never  disbanded  them  :  but  it 


f 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  353 

was  not  thus  I  trow  in  the  days  of  King  Richard,  and 
for  why  ?  because  he  trusted  unto  his  own  valour  and 
the  good  faith  of  his  subjects  ;  whicli  this  usurping 
Earl,  this  wily,  but  "  shallow  Richmond,"  as  my  father 
would  sportively  call  him,  could  never  do.  Now, 
indeed,  I  wot  that  these  Yeomen  are  continued  as  the 
proper  retinue  of  state,  so  men  do  nothing  note  them  ; 
yet,  albeit  I  had  seen  the  French  King's  band  of  Scots 
Archers,  it  did  somewhat  surprise  me  to  find  that  a 
Sovereign  of  these  realms  could  not  travel  in  safety,  un- 
less he  were  surrounded  by  this  guard  of  mercenaries. 
When  that  I  was  at  length  brought  before  the  Coun- 
cil, I  was  full  closely  questioned  upon  all  points ;  as 
well  those  affecting  mine  adventure  at  Bermondsey, 
as  those  regarding  mine  own  lineage  and  quality. 
But  as  I  was  now  no  longer  under  the  wild  rule  of 
sudden  passion,  I  deemed  it  might  be  anything  save 
wisdom  to  insist  on  mine  high  estate  and  royal  blood  ; 
yet  from  love  unto  truth  I  might  not  unsay  what  I 
had  already  declared,  the  which  was  not  slightly  noted 
by  the  Council,  and  methought  I  was  the  more  harshly 
dealt  with,  because  I  had  too  openly  avowed  myself  the 
issue  of  one  who  had  worn  England's  crown :  but,  per- 
adventure,  this  was  only  a  phantasy  of  mine  own. 
Howbeit,  as  none  of  the  charges  against  me  did  seem 
to  amount  unto  treason  or  to  touch  my  life,  the  wily 
Ilarry  was  minded  rather  to  court  imto  his  interest 
such  of  the  House  of  York  and  it's  favourers  as  were 
yet  remaining.     lie  himself  averred,  that  he  sought 

2  a 


354  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

not  the  death  of  obscure  foes  or  silly  and  misled  souls, 
but  used  his  rigour  only  to  bring  low  and  abate,  the 
high  stomachs  of  such  wild  people  as  were  bred  up 
in  seditious  factions  and  civil  rebellions.  Whereupon 
it  seemed,  from  mine  aftei*-fate,  as  if  himself  and  his 
Council  had  resolved  rather  to  suppress  all  knowledge 
of  me  and  let  me  slide  out  of  memory,  than  presently 
to  persecute  me  ;  for  I  was  ordered  to  be  removed  for 
a  brief  space  until  other  witnesses  should  be  sought  for, 
and  other  proofs  brought  up  against  me,  when,  perad- 
venture,  it  was  alway  intended  to  keep  me  an  unknown 
captive,  like  my  cousin  Edward  Plantagenet,  and 
vipon  fitting  occasion  to  put  me  to  death. 

When  I  did  thus  appear  before  Henry  in  his  Council, 
I  looked  upon  him  for  the  last  time,  and  I  had  not  be- 
held him  afore,  since  the  fatal  day  when  I  wandered  up 
to  his  guard  in  the  battle  of  Boswortli-field ;  for  I  saw 
him  not  at  his  Queens  coronation.  And,  now,  there 
was,  in  truth,  a  great  and  sad  alteration  in  him  :  for 
whereas  he  was  noted  of  all  to  liave  a  fair  complexion, 
and  a  countenance  merry  and  smiling,  methought  his 
visage  looked  pale  and  thin,  and  so  worn  by  care  and 
pain,  that  I  could  not  but  pity  him.  His  eyes  were 
already  dim  of  sight,  and  the  pangs  of  that  mistaken 
disease,  in  the  fierce  agonies  whereof  he  departed, — 
had  even  at  this  time  come  upon  him,  and  marked 
him  with  the  furrows  of  a  too-early  old  age. 

From  the  chamber  of  Council  I  was  forthwith  re- 
turned unto  my   prison-room,  where  he  who  had  me 


I 


1 


THK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  355 

in  keeping,  one  Walter  Bolte,  admonished  me  to  be  of 
good  courage,  seeing  that  it  had  fared  no  worse  with 
me  ;  for  he  said,  had  not  the  King  been  gracious,  or 
matters  shewed  somewhat  in  my  favour,  I  had  never 
returned  with  such  respite.  The  manner  of  this  fel- 
low was  blunt  but  kindly,  and  though  I  deemed  it  not 
altogether  fitting  for  one  of  my  sort  to  hold  much  con- 
verse Avith  a  person  of  his  degree,  yet  did  I  not  scruple 
to  do  so  at  this  time;  and  I  thereupon  demanded  of  him, 
wherefore  he  augured  so  favourably  of  my  condition. 
"  Truly,"  answered  he,  "because  it  hath  full  rarely 
chanced,  that  they  Avho  have  not  had  money  to  make 
large  fine  unto  his  Grace  for  the  weal  of  his  people, 
have  been  retained  for  any  second  hearing  before  the 
Council ;  and  I  shrewdly  guess  that  your  purse  is  not 
deep  enow  to  buy  such  delay." 

"  Small  profit,"  rejoined  I,  "  is  likely  to  arise  from 
that  delay  unto  me,  if  my  second  trial,  as  you  term  it, 
should  be  no  better  than  the  first :  it  may,  perchance, 
somewhat  put  off  the  hour  of  my  fall,  but  I  trow  well 
that  'twill  scarcely  prevent  it." 

"Nay,"  replied  Walter,  thereupon,  "and  'twere 
unreason  to  hope  for  it,  so  I  prithee  deem  not  that  I 
would  so  mislead  you,  as  to  cause  you  to  think  that 
your  life  may  be  saved  ;  I  meant  but  to  shew  that  you 
should  take  comfort  in  this  pause." 

"  Alas !"  did  I  exclaim  then,  as  if  sjieaking  unto 
myself,  "  my  fate  is  but  as  I  weened  it  must  be  ;  and 
at  all  events  I  must  be  deprived  of  life." 


3/30  THK    LAST    OF    TIIK    PI.ANTAGENETS. 

"  Yea,  even  so,"  responded  the  Gaoler,  "  as  I  judge." 

"Why,  then,"  demanded  I,  "would  you  give  me 

such  false  comfort,  and  wherefore  do  you  deem  that  I 

have  cause  for  rejoicing,  inasmuch  the  Council  hath 

not  yet  condemned  me  ?" 

"  Why,  in  chief,"  answered  Walter,  "  because  it 
looked  unto  me  that  you  are  in  much  favour  in  hav- 
ing space  to  make  up  your  peace  with  Heaven,  which 
hath  not  oft  been  granted  I  promise  you  ; — and  then, 
because  I  thought  even  your  death  might  be  made 
somewhat  more  supportable  than  the  same  hath  been 
in  many  other  cases ;  the  which  I  can  overname  for 
your  edification  and  comfort,  an  you  list  to  hear  them." 
"But,  notwithstanding  all,"  returned  I  thereunto, 
"you  still  tell  me  that  I  must  certainly  die." 

"  Aye,  truly,"  added  Walter,  as  if  in  surprise  at  my 
speech,  "  that  did  I  ever  think  must  be  the  end  of  all ; 
nor  doubted  that  you  would  do  the  like.  For,  to  say 
nought  of  your  sacrilege,  you  could  little  expect  that 
the  avowed  son  of  the  evil  Duke  of  Gloucester  would 
be  let  live  when  so  many  mock  princes  have  been 
disturbing  the  realm  by  their  lawless  uprisings." 

"Then  in  Heaven's  name!  thou  quibbling  knave," 
questioned  I,  "  what  was  the  goodly  abatement  of 
penalty  you  held  out  to  me,  wherein  you  deemed  I 
stood  so  fair,  and  whence  I  might  hope  so  much?" 

"  Good  words,  JMaster  Plantagenet,"  responded  the 
Avearisome  Keeper,  "  good  words,  and  I  care  not  if  I 
tell  you  that  too.     And  so  you  may  first  note,  if,  in- 


I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  357 

deed  you  know  it  not  already,  that  to  die  is  what  none 
'scape,  it  being  every  man's  lot ;  argal,  the  evil  or  sor- 
row, of  death,  in  one  condemned  thereunto  for  his 
misdoings,  ariseth  not  from  taking  of  his  life,  but 
from  the  sad  array  and  doleful  circumstance  of  execu- 
tion :  perceive  ye  me  herein  ?  Now,  since  your  mat- 
ters have  taken  so  fair  a  turn,  it  may  be  that  the  King 
in  his  great  clemency, — he  being  convinced  that  you 
are  in  truth  of  royal  blood, — may  put  you  to  death  in 
the  pleasant  manner  that  one  of  your  House  was  by 
King  Edward  the  Fourth,  as  I  well  remember,  and 
so  drown  you  in  a  butt  of  good  Sherris-sack  !" 

"  And  is  that  all  the  mercy,"  said  I,  "  which  I  may 
look  for  at  your  King's  hand  ?" 

"  All !  quotha,"  replied  the  amazed  Walter  Bolte, 
"  to  see,  now,  how  unthankful  are  some  men  !  But 
Gramercy  !  good  friend,  I  pray  thee  tell  no  man  that 
I  promised  thee  such  goodly  chance  !  I  spake  but  of 
what  might  happen,  an  thy  good  luck  continued  ;  yet 
would  I  not  have  thee  too  cheerfully  hope  therefore." 

"Truly,"  responded  I,  "  'tis  not  coveted  by  me,  if 
such  be  all  the  clemency  I  may  look  to." 

"  Why  this  is  well,"  added  Walter,  "  moderate  de- 
sires bring  fewest  disappointments,  and  thou  mightest 
at  last  look  in  vain  for  so  princely  and  merry  a  death  ; 
yet  still  would  I  comfort  thee  with  the  knowledge 
that,  at  the  worst,  thou  wilt  but  lose  thy  life  by  a  stout 
cord  and  a  high  gibbet ;  or  that,  in  consideration  of  all 
doubts,  his  Grace,  ever  merciful  and  most  gentle,  will 


358  TUK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS. 

shew  thee  the  special  favour  of  taking  thine  head  by 
a  sharp  axe  and  a  sure  headsman." 

"Since  it  must  be  so,  then,"  said  I  once  more,  "I 
trust  his  Grace  will  not  refuse  me  the  attendance  of 
one  of  the  good  Friars  from  the  IMonastery  here  at 
Sheen,  to  take  my  confession  and  prepare  me  for  death. 
Therefore,  if  you  will  furnish  me  with  the  means,  I 
will  eftsoons  write  this  most  reasonable  request  unto 
the  Privy-Council." 

"  Not  by  mine  avisement  or  aid.  Master  Plantage- 
net,"  rejoined  the  good  Walter  Bolte,  as  methought  in 
some  alarm,  "'tis  ever  best  to  let  great  folks  have 
their  own  way,  and  if  the  King  and  Council  forget 
you,  why  do  you  forget  them,  and  so  be  even.  And 
for  your  soul,  I  warrant  that  you  and  I  can  guard  it 
without  ever  a  barefooted  Friar  coming  hither ;  for 
when  such  visitors  come  unto  my  guests,  I  have  noted 
that  they  tarry  not  long  after  with  me,  since  the 
Executioner  is  the  Confessor's  henchman :  so  I  pray 
you  to  think  no  more  of  a  Friar." 

Unto  this  wise  counsel  I  assented,  although  I  answer- 
ed nothing  thereunto,  yet  I  saw  well  that  he  who  spake 
meant  me  fairly,  and  believed  that  his  discourse,  rude 
as  it  was,  would  give  me  much  comfort ;  albeit  he  was 
somewhat  hardened  by  his  office  of  gaoler,  and  had 
learned  to  think  full  lightly  of  death  upon  the  scaffold, 
and  even  to  speak  of  it  with  a  leer  and  a  jest.  But,  sooth 
to  say,  I  was  ever  ill-prepared  to  welcome  such  conso- 
lation ;  for  though  I  would  have  braved  Death  in  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  359 

field,  or  have  assayed  to  meet  him  cahnly  in  the  cham- 
ber, I  did  nevertheless  shrink  from  encountering  him 
like  a  guilty  miscreant. 

And  such  was  the  ordinary  course  of  my  Keeper's 
converse  during  mine  imprisonment  at  Sheen ;  for, 
like  many  persons  of  his  condition,  he  was  ever  most 
ready  to  recognise  the  royal  grace  and  forbearance, 
when  it  was  shewn  in  the  fashion  I  have  here  re- 
counted. Howbeit,  his  wonder  did  much  increase, 
when  all  that  year  passed  away  and  I  still  remained 
unpersecuted,  and  even  uimoted,  by  Henry  and  his 
Council,  saving  that  they  yet  held  me  a  close  prisoner. 
Farther  than  this,  also,  the  year  1506  came  on,  and, 
peradventure,  would,  unto  me,  have  glided  away  like 
the  foregoing,  in  sad  captivity  and  that  deferred  hope 
which  maketh  the  heart  sick, — when,  in  the  very  be- 
ginning thereof,  a  strange  release  was  wondrously  pro- 
vided for  me,  and  was  quicker  in  approach  than  I 
could  either  have  hoped  or  trusted. 

It  was,  then,  in  the  night-season  of  JMonday,  the 
fifth  day  of  January,  whilst  the  bell  for  Lauds  was 
sounding  forth  from  the  Convent  of  Obslervant- Friars 
adjoining  unto  tlie  Palace,  that,  on  a  sudden,  the 
slow  and  heavy  toll  was  changed  into  a  loud  and 
hurried  note  of  alarm  ;  and  the  stillness  of  that  silent 
spot  was  broken  by  loud  and  repeated  shouts  of 
"  Fire  in  the  King's  lodgings  !"*    Full  narrow  was  the 


*  Some  notice  of  this  fire  is  recorded  in  Stow's  Chronicle. 


360  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

space  tVom  the  lofty  window  of  my  chamber,  yet  as  I 
watched  at  it,  I  did  at  length  behold  how  the  devour- 
ing element  came  fiercely  on,  triumphing  over  state- 
chamber  and  gallery,  as  they  were  spread  out  both 
above  and  beneatli  the  turret  wherein  I  was  prisoned, 
whereunto  it  was  full  quickly  approacliing.  At  length 
the  blaze  from  beneath  mounted  upwards  unto  my 
window,  and  was  borne  inward  by  the  night-blast 
with  divers  pieces  of  burning  timber ;  the  like  being 
also  cast  upon  the  roof  of  my  tower,  which  I  deemed 
would  forthwith  set  fire  unto  the  rafters  thereof:  for 
it  seemed  to  have  been  ordained  that  the  Last  of  the 
Plantagenets  should  have  somewhat  of  a  royal  death, 
by  perishing  in  the  flames  of  a  burning  Palace  ! 

The  great  and  sudden  hazard  wherein  this  mis- 
chance placed  me,  caused  me  to  call  loudly  upon  my 
Keeper,  who  lodged  in  a  chamber  adjoining  unto 
mine  own ;  but  no  answer  came,  even  though  I  re- 
peated my  call  still  more  loudly.  I  then  shook  my  door, 
and,  much  to  mine  amaze,  found  it  unfastened ; 
whereupon,  passing  into  the  Keeper's  room,  I  saw 
that  it  was  empty  and  the  door  thereof  left  open,  as  if 
he  had  hastily  quitted  it.  Well  I  ween,  that  the  de- 
sire of  escape  and  the  hope  of  liberty  did  now  glance 
full  brightly  over  my  mind,  but  anon  I  thought  upon 
the  many  doubts  attending  the  same ;  as  finding  my 
way  unchallenged  through  the  winding  passages  and 
many  chambers  of  the  Palace,  and  then  of  avoiding 
pursuit  either   by  land  or  water,   the  which  seemed 


I 
I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  3()1 

unto  me  almost  impossible.  Howbeit,  I  resolved  at 
all  hazards  to  make  the  essay,  and,  musing  on  my 
course,  passed  through  a  portal  in  my  prison-turret, 
which  suddenly  brought  me  upon  certain  leads  above 
the  chambers  that  were  on  fire.  Whilst  1  was  search^ 
ing  around  me  for  another  way  from  that  place,  much 
doubting  how  to  proceed,  I  felt  one  forcibly  grasp 
mine  arm,  and  say,  in  a  low  and  rude  voice,  "  Hah  ! 
this  is  well.  Master  Plantagenet,  we  meet  in  good 
hour  for  both  of  us ;  though,  perchance,  somewhat 
inopportunely  in  stopping  your  course  hence." 

"  Had  my  Keeper  been  in  his  own  place,"  was 
mine  answer,  "  I  had  not  been  here,  and  even  now 
I  left  not  my  chamber  until  'twas  too  hot  to  lodge 
longer  in,  as  you  may  behold,  nor  until  I  had  more 
than  once  vainly  summoned  the  Gaoler.  The  door 
opened  beneath  my  grasp  as  I  shook  it,  I  wandered 
here, " 

"And  would  eftsoons  have  strayed  out  yonder," 
interrupted  the  Soldier,  whom  I  saw  by  the  light  of 
the  flames  to  be  no  other  than  the  fierce  and  fraudful 
Bernard  Schalken,  looking  upon  me  with  a  visage  of 
mucli  scoffing  and  violence ;  "  howbeit,  'tis  not  unto 
me  that  thou  must  answer  for  tliy  purposed  escape. 
Nay,  farther,  only  reply  straightly  and  truly  to  that 
which  I  demand,  and  I  will  aid  thee  far  better  than 
thou  canst  aid  thyself.  But  mark  me,  this  is  our  last 
meeting,  I  owe  you  now  a  shrewd  turn  for  making  me 
known  at  Bermondsey,  and,  by  the  Maker  of  us  both,  I 


362  THE    LA;<X    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

will  now  have  either  my  will  of  thee  or  my  revenge  !" 
"  Thy  revenge !"  exclaimed  I  in  a  fearless  voice, 
"  and  for  what  ?  since  in  nought  was  I  ever  thine 
enemy,  albeit  thou  hast  proved  thyself  to  be  such 
both  unto  me  and  many  others,  being  altogether  void 
of  good  faith.  But  deem  me  not  still  a  stripling, 
Bernard  Schalken,  I  fear  thee  not  ;  and  neither  thy 
will  nor  thy  revenge, — aiding  mine  escape,  nor  en- 
suring my  present  death,  shall  cause  me  to  do  aught 
of  dishonour  to  secure  or  to  avoid  them." 

"  Think  better  of  it,  comrade,"  thereunto  answered 
Bernard  in  a  scoffing  and  malicious  voice,  "  and  'twill 
be  for  your  most  'vantage,  I  promise  thee.  But  to 
be  as  bold  and  brief  as  thyself,  thus  stands  my  desire- 
In  the  reign  of  thy  father  I  was  a  soldier  in  his  guard, 
and  after  became  the  follower  of  Sir  James  Tyrrell 
and  Sir  Gilbert  De  iMountford,  as  you  wot.  How 
they  employed  me,  'tis  now  no  time  to  repeat,  and  it 
skills  not  for  thee  to  know ;  but  the  haughty  Lord 
Lovel  was  then  in  the  height  of  his  pride  and  power : 
he  loved  to  check  and  overbear  the  soldiers  for  little 
cause,  and  once,  in  the  wars,  upon  some  slight  matter 
of  spoil  which  I  had  seized  on,  he  called  me  '  coward 
plunderer,'  and  struck  me  unto  the  ground !  I  swore 
at  fitting  season  to  wash  this  out  with  his  blood,  for 
he  was  no  leader  of  mine;  but  then  came  the  fight  at 
Bosworth,  which  scattered  the  York  host,  and  he 
betook  him  unto  France.  When  he  again  came  hither 
with  Lambert  Simnell,  I  was  a  soldier  under  King 


1 

1 


THE    LAST    OV    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS.  363 

Henry,  but  in  the  battle  of  Stoke  my  station  was 
against  the  power  of  IMartin  Schwartz,  and  I  missed 
Lovel  by  his  flight  across  the  Trent.  Had  I  but 
known  of  his  retreat  there,  he  should  have  died,  had 
he  owned  a  thousand  lives ;  but  I  well  deemed  he 
was  drowned,  as  others  did,  until  Israel  was  taken 
secretly  wandering  about  IMinster-Lovel  and  baffled 
all  questions  and  tortures  to  get  from  him  the  name 
and  retreat  of  the  fugitive.  Then  didst  thou  suddenly 
appear  in  the  state-chamber,  which  assured  me  that 
one  was  in  hiding  there,  and  that  it  was  Lovel  him- 
self!" 

"  Thanks  to  St.  Mary !"  responded  I  then,  "  I 
'scaped  from  your  poAver  by  an  open  window  and  a 
swift  foot,  albeit  I  was  only  a  stripling.  But  bethink 
you,  ill-minded  man,  that  eighteen  years  have  passed 
since  that  hour ;  and  had  Lord  Lovel  been  indeed 
liidden  there,  he  must  long  since  have  been  but  life- 
less dust." 

"  That  may  well  be,"  replied  the  fierce  Bernard, 
"  yet  his  very  dust  is  to  me  so  hateful,  that  it  would 
joy  me  to  wreak  my  vowed  vengeance  even  upon  that ; 
and  to  spurn  the  proud  noble  as  he  did  the  oppress- 
ed soldier ;  beside  claiming  the  reward  which  is  still 
offered  for  him  alive  or  dead.  And  now,  Plantagenet, 
look  at  that  flaming  gulf  beneath  thee,  and  bethink  thee 
of  the  fearful  death  which  it  offers.  Consent  to  guide 
me  unto  the  haughty  Lovel's  retreat  or  sepulchre, 
I  care  not  which,  and,  by  all  that  men  call  holy  or 


364      THK  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

adore,  I  will  set  thee  free  from  prison  !  Refuse  me 
this,  and,  by  the  Powers  of  Darkness !  I  will  forth- 
with hurl  thee  from  the  battlements  ! — Nay,  think 
not  to  call  upon  thy  Keeper,  for  all  in  the  Palace  are 
too  intent  on  saving  body  and  goods  to  hear  thee  : 
and  should  thy  corse  be  found.  King  Henry  will  reck 
but  little  so  thou  art  dead  ;  whilst  all  will  deem  thou 
hast  but  fallen  over  in  seeking  to  escape.  Once  more, 
then,  make  thy  decision." 

"  Never,"  then  exclaimed  I  firmly,  "  will  I  take 
my  life  on  such  degrading  terms,  even  though  the 
headsman's  axe  fell  as  I  spake  the  word !  And  never 
will  I  disclose  the  pious  Lord  Level's  holy  place  of 
rest  unto  one,  who  goeth  with  fiendish  malice  to  feast 
upon  the  dead !" 

"  Then  presently  commit  thy  soul  to  God  !"  an- 
swered Bernard,  thereupon  seizing  me  with  a  mighty 
grasp,  and  fixing  one  foot  half  over  the  edge  of  the 
battlements.  I  now  also  put  forth  my  strength  to 
resist  him,  and,  albeit  I  shuddered  at  the  very  thought 
of  giving  him  unto  the  fearful  death  whereto  he  had 
doomed  me,  yet  did  I  struggle  to  get  free  from  him. 
We  grappled,  therefore,  together  for  some  short 
space,  but  whilst  he  was  straining  his  huge  frame  to 
raise  me  unto  the  battlements,  and  stoutly  I  bent  me 
backwards  therefrom,  cei'tain  of  the  stones  trembled 
and  gave  way  beneath  his  feet,  mine  own  garment  rent 
at  the  same  moment,  and,  loosing  lois  hold,  he  reeled 
over  with  a  mighty  fall  into  the  flaming  gallery  ! 


I 


I 


THE    LAST   £)F    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS.  365 

Heartsick  and  full  of  horror  at  this  evil  end  of  a 
most  evil  Soldier,  I  seemed  to  lose  all  sense  of  mine 
own  condition,  and  all  desire  of  making  mine  escape  ; 
whereupon  I  wandered  back  again  unto  the  outer  cham- 
ber, enwrapped  in  solemn  thought,  and  there  awaited 
the  return   of  my  Keeper,   regardless    of  all  danger 
around  me.     The  fire  was  quenched  towards  morning, 
when  Walter  Bolte  came  back,  and  once  more  made 
me  close  prisoner,  saying  that  my  lodgings  were  in  no 
hazard  from  the  flames.  About  noon-tide  he  did  again 
return  unto  me,  with  a   Soldier   bearing  a  sharp  and 
heavy  sword,  such  as  headsmen  are   sometimes  wont 
to  use  upon  the  scaffold.      The  sound  of  their  ap- 
proach  brake   up   my  musings,  and,    on    beholding 
them,  strange  thoughts  came  over  my  mind ;   since 
I  deemed  that  mine  attempted  escape  had  been  dis- 
covered, and  that  in  the  Soldier  I  beheld  mine  execu- 
tioner.    For  I  had  heard  of  Kings  who  held  it  not 
unlaAvful,  secretly  to  murther  such  of  their  prisoned 
foes  as  they  listed  not  to  bring  to  farther  trial  or  open 
destruction  ;  and  it  seemed  full  likely  that  such  a  fate 
was  now  purposed  for  me.     I  Avill  not  deny  that  I 
felt  some  dread  hcreat;  for  albeit  I  should  thus  'scape 
the  dishonour  of  dying  on  a  public  scaffold,  yet  to 
be  hurried  from  life  in  a  moment  and   in  prison,  by 
the  slaughtering  liands  of  a  secret  minister  of  ven- 
geance,  seemed    unto   me  to    have  a   visage  of  yet 
greater  horror. 

The  Keeper's  first  address  unto  me  was  to  follow 


36(5  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

him  quickly,  and  hold  silence  in  all  I  did,  whilst  he 
farther  ordered  the  Soldier  with  the  heavy  sword  to 
close  up  behind  me ;  and,  from  the  blunt  and  dark 
maimer  of  his  speech  and  action,  I  felt  me  assured  that 
I  was  going  forthwith  unto  my  death  :  wliereupon  I 
advanced  slowly,  at  the  same  time  demanding  of  him 
whither  I  was  about  to  go. 

"  What  matter  can  that  be  of  thine  ?"  answered  he, 
with  his  wonted  jest,  "  come  away  and  keep  not  thy 
betters  waiting  ;  dost  thou  fear  being  set  at  liberty  by 
following  me  ?" 

"  No  friend,"  replied  I,  "  in  truth  ;  but  last  night's 
fire  had  nearly  done  that  for  me  without  any  other 
aid." 

"  Yea,"  responded  the  Keeper,  "  there  speakest  thou 
full  shrewdly  ;  and  because  the    King's    lodging    is 
burned,  with  rare  beds,  'broidered  carpets,  velvet  cur- 
tains, and  royal  furniture,  beside  much  of  the  Palace, 
and  certain  soldiers, — as  thou  art  one  of  his  Highness's 
most  precious  things  in  this   place,  he  hath  resolved 
to  send  thee  out  of  farther  hazard  to  be  kept  with  his 
other  jewels  in  the  Tower.     And  so  follow  me  forth, 
and  keep  silence  the  whilst. — But  hold  thee.  Master," 
— continued  Walter  Bolte,  suddenly  stopping  in  his 
course, — ^"  as  you  may  be  noted  in  your  own  clothes, 
I  am  willed  to  see  you  vested  in  this  Friar's  habit, 
wherein  you  must  make  the  journey." 

Therewith  he  produced   the  gown  and  cowl  of  a 
Benedictine  IMonk,  the  which  I  })ut  on,  lialf  lament- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  3G7 

ing  within  myself  that  it  had  not  been  my  fortune 
always  to  wear  the  like ;  and  so,  relieved  from  the 
thought  of  instant  execution,  I  followed  my  conductor  : 
not  because  I  was  well  content  to  do  so,  but  because 
I  thought  that  my  present  lot  could  be  but  little 
worsted,  saving  by  death  ;  and  I  also  saw  that  if  such 
were  indeed  intended,  I  could  in  no  wise  fly  therefrom 
but  must  perforce  yield  unto  it. 

The  Keeper  and  certain  guards  then  led  me  down 
unto  the  river-side,  and  entered  with  me  into  a  barge 
with  two  watermen ;  whereupon  we  launched  away  on 
the  broad  river  of  Thames,  and  drew  nigh  unto  the  an- 
cient Bridge  of  London  when  a  misty  even  was  spread- 
ing it's  thickest  mantle  over  land  and  water.  I  deem- 
ed myself  now  as  one  condemned,  in  being  thus  sent 
unto  the  Tower  ;  with  which  sad  thought,  the  horrible 
remembrance  of  Bernard's  death  was  ever  present  unto 
my  mind,  and,  thus  disquieted,  I  had  taken  little  note 
of  our  near  approach  unto  my  dreaded  harbour,  or  of 
the  voyage  thither.  Whether  it  were  by  reason  of  the 
fore-named  darkness,  or  the  false  and  flitting  lights 
dimly  seen  through  it,  in  divers  chambers  of  the  houses 
which  do  overhang  that  wondrous  Bridge,  or  from 
misgovernance  of  our  vessel, — I  know  not ;  but  when 
it  entered  that  current  which  rushes  with  such  loud 
noise  and  mighty  speed  through  the  arches,  our  barge 
was  dashed  against  the  oaken  piles  tliereof  with  sud- 
den and  fearful  fury,  and  whelmed  in  an  instant,  cast- 
ing those  on  board  into  the  river.     The  forms  of  all  my 


368  THE    LAST    OF    THE    I'LANTAGENETS. 

companions  were  speedily  lost  unto  me  in  the  thick 
darkness  of  that  evening,  and  their  cries  in  the  roar- 
ing and  pouring  of  the  wild  surges,  which  carried 
along  the  shattered  boat  and  hapless  crew  at  fiercest 
speed  down  the  tide,  and  I  wot  they  were  never  more 
beheld  of  man  ! 

For   mine    own   part,  I   silently  resigned    my  soul 
unto  God,  who  could  still  hear  me  amidst  the  loudest 
clamour  of  the  waters  ;  but  as  I  was  hurried  through 
the  narrow  arch,  my  course  was  full   suddenly  and 
wondrously  stopped,  by  mine  habit  catching  against 
some  iron  in  the  starling.     I  clung  fast  thereunto, 
and,  at   length,  mounted  upon    it,   remaining   there 
until   certain   cords  were  let  down  from  the  Bridge 
above  to  aid  mine  escape  thence ;  and  when  I  learned 
that  there  was  now  no  other  than  myself  to  save,  I 
gave  hearty  thanks  to  Heaven  for  mine  own  preser- 
vation, and  deemed  that  I  once  more  beheld  future 
liberty,  arising  out  of  that  which  seemed  no  other  than 
present  and  certain  death. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A   SECOND    EXILE,   AND   AN   INVITATION    AND    RETREAT 
INTO    SANCTUARY. 


Adieu  !  Adieu  !  my  native  shore 

Fades  o'er  the  waters  blue  ; 
The  night-winds  sigh,  the  breakers  roar, 

And  shrieks  the  wild  sea-mew. 
Yon  sun  that  sets  upon  tlie  sea 

We  follow  in  his  flight  ; 
Farewell  awhile  to  him  and  thee. 

My  Native  Land — Good  Night  ! 

Lord  Byron. 

They  appointed  an  eloquent  and  learned  Friar  to  preach  a  Sermon  of 

Contempt  of  the  World,  and  of  the  happiness  and  benefit  of  a  quiet  and  con- 
templative life  ;  which  the  Friar  did  most  affectionately.  After  which  Ser- 
mon, the  Emperor  took  occasion  to  declare  oi)enly,  that  the  Preacher  had 
begotten  in  him  a  resolution  to  lay  down  his  dignities,  forsake  the  woild,  and 
betake  himself  to  a  monastic  life. 

IzAAK  Wai, ton's  Life  of  Gi;orge  Herbert. 

Albeit  I  had  been  thus  most  wondrously  protected 
from  the  fearful  chances  of  dying  by  long  imprison- 
ment, fire,  water,  or  the  hand  of  the  executioner,  and 
thus  seemed  to  be  again  at  liberty,  I  did  still  know 
well,  that,  whilst  Harry  Tudor  lived,  my  life  was 
not  yet  safe  in  this  realm  ;  but  that  I  must  speedily 
haste  me  beyond  the  seas,  though  I  wist  not  how  to 

2   B 


370  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

do  it,  having  but  little  money  to  carry  me  hence. 
As  all  my  companions  were  drowned  when  the  barge 
was  overwhelmed  in  the  wild  current,  and  as  I  had  cast 
from  me  my  Friar's  habit  when  I  got  me  on  the  star- 
ling,— that,  being  afterward  found,  it  might  be  truly 
thought  that  I  had  met  the  like  fate, — I  might  thus 
give  what  report  I  would  of  myself,  so  that  truth  were 
not  too  greatly  outraged  in  seeking  for  safety.  There- 
fore I  recounted  how  that  I  had  lain  long  space  at 
Sheen,  confined  by  an  evil  distemper,  and  that  I  was 
now  coming  thence  in  hope  of  entertainment  either 
abroad  or  on  the  seas,  with  a  certain  company,  when 
our  boatmen,  through  misgovernance  of  the  vessel  or 
darkness  of  the  night,  dashed  it  against  the  Bridge,  as 
it  was  already  known. 

The  dwelling  whereto  they  who  drew  me  up  led 
me  to  dry  my  raiment,  I  soon  quitted  with  thanks, 
and  forthwith  wandered  unto  an  Inn  near  the  Bridge, 
much  frequented  by  shipmen,  of  the  sign  of  the  Great 
Henry  ;  in  memory  of  the  vast  ship  of  war  so  called, 
built  for  Harry  Tudor,  and  the  first  royal  barque  of  that 
kind  which  did  ever  float  out  of  an  English  harbour. 
At  this  place,  therefore,  did  I  find  divers  mariners  met 
together,  discoursing  on  their  voyage  unto  Bristol,  the 
which  they  should  begin  with  the  tide  that  would 
presently  flow,  whence  they  were  forthwith  to  sail  in 
search  of  new  countries.  I  did  soon  find  that  they 
were  the  Captain,  and  some  of  the  company,  of  the 
good  ship  Dominus  Fohiscum,  belonging  unto  Hugh 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  SJl 

Eliot  and  Thomas  Ashurst,  Merchants  of  Bristol,  and 
Johannes  and  Gonzales  Fernandez,  Portuguese,  unto 
whom  a  patent  had  been  granted  for  making  disco- 
veries upon  the  seas.*  Upon  hearing  that  I  was  look- 
ing for  entertainment,  the  Captain,  one  Luigi  Ramusio, 
who  was  also  a  Portingale,  demanded  if  I  would  take 
service  with  them  to  see  unknown  lands  for  some  three 
years  or  so,  upon  fair  terms;  adding  withal,  that  I 
should  forthwith  declare  mine  intent,  for  that  the  tide 
was  fast  making,  the  wind  blew  fairly  for  sailing,  and 
that  his  barque, which  lay  beside  the  Bridge,  was  even 
then  ready  to  depart. 

It  may  be  well  thought  that  I  desired  nothing  bet- 
ter than  such  an  offer,  and  that  it  was  soon  a  stricken 
bargain  betwixt  us;  for  as  to  mine  own  land,  it  had  once 
more  become  my  fiercest  enemy,  and  the  Lady  Bride 
was  now  lost  unto  me  past  all  hope  of  recovery,  or 
even  of  beholding  again.  iMoreover,  my  strength  was 
decayed  and  my  soul  had  become  full  sad  from  long 
imprisonment,  beside  being  dismayed  and  affrighted 
at  the  late  fearful  deaths  of  Bernard  Schalken,  my 
Keeper,  and  the  guards ;  and  I  did  earnestly  hope  to 
lose  the  thought  of  these  things  in  distant  climes, 
wherein  I  might  also  look  to  gain  new  life,  and,  above 
all,  liberty. 

I  do  not  question,  but  that  they  who  shall  hereafter 


"  This  instrument  is  printed  in  Rymer's  Foedera,  vol.  xiii. 
p.  37,  and  is  dated  December  !)th,  1.502. 


372  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

read  over  this  my  story,  will  picture  unto  themselves, 
and  that  without  my  shewing,  the  doubts  and  fears 
which  I  did  endure,  even  after  we  got  unto  Bristol, 
until  our  barque  was  made  ready  for  sea  ;  lest,  perad- 
venture,  I  might  be  heard  of,  traced  thither,  and  so 
carried  back  unto  the  Tower,  where,  in  brief  space,  I 
should  no  doubt  have   lost  mine  head.     Howbeit,  as 
God  would  have  it,  my  death  was  deemed  certain, 
and  as  I  presently  altered  my  garb  and  figure  to  look 
as  much  as  I  might  like  a  shipman,  and  kept  me  close 
unto  my  vessel,  I  'scaped  questioning  until  our  barque 
was  all  appointed  for  sailing.     This  was  some  time 
about  the  end  of  March;  and  so,  having  all  confessed 
and  received  the  Sacrament  by  command  of  our  Cap- 
tain, we  did  at  length   set  our  courses  unto  sea  and 
depart.     It  Avere  full  vain  to  think  of  shewing  in  this 
place,  the  great  and  wondrous  histories  of  our  voyages; 
both  because  they  be  all  too  long  to  write  herein,  and 
also  because  that  divers,  of  great  skill  in  the  IMariner's 
Art,  have  penned   most  excellent   accounts  thereof, 
what  time  the  brave  Christopher  Columbus  and  Sebas- 
tian Cabot  v.'ent  unto  the  same  parts  as  we.     I  will, 
therefore,  note  only,  that  in  my  several  voyages  I  saw 
many  strange  things  and  countries,  in  going  unto  the 
East  and  West  Indies,  into  the  South  Seas,  and  round 
by  the  coasts  on  the  North  side  of  America,  for  dis- 
covering of  new  lands,  or  finding  out  a  North- West 
passage  thereunto.     We  sailed,  moreover,  through  the 
great  North  Seas,  wherein  we  saw  the  mighty  Morses, 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  373 

which  be  killed  with  great  hazard  for  their  oil ;  and 
even  in  the  month  of  hot  July,  met  with  monstrous 
hills  of  ice  swimming  on  the  waves  ;  and  beheld  a  land, 
which,  at  this  season,  hath,  as  it  were,  all  daylight. 

And  such  was  mine  employ  until  the  year  of  Grace 
1509,  when  we  were  returning  with  good  success  from 
a  voyage  round  by  the  East  Sea,  or  Sound   of  Den- 
mark ;  and  drew   fairly  nigh   unto  the  coast  of  Eng- 
land, where  the  Northern  Ocean  washes  the  shores  of 
Norfolk,  it  being  our  purpose  to  enter  the  river  and 
harbour  of  Wells.     The  even    ere  we   should  have 
reached  thereunto,  was  fair  and  pleasant,  though,  as 
divers  of  us  thought,  not  without  tokens   of  storm  ; 
yet  were  the  shipmen  full  glad,  and  spent  the  time  in 
merriment,  even  as  the  swan  singeth  before  his  death, 
not   watching  that  most  deceitful  coast.     Anon    the 
wind  arose,  and  blew  vehemently  from  the  North-at- 
East,  bringing  withal  rain  and  thick  mist,  so  that  we 
might  not  discern  land,  to  put  in  right  with  the  ha- 
ven, nor  see  a  cable's  length   before   us   through   the 
night.      In  the  morning  Ave  found  ourselves   on  flats 
and  shifting  sands,  whereupon  we  let  the  ship  drive 
unto  the  wind  ;  but,  beating  up  and  down,  sometimes 
in  shallows,  and  sometimes  in  deep  water,  our  barque 
at  last  struck  a-ground,  and  soon  after  had  her  stern- 
parts  all  beaten  in  pieces  !  —  It  was  a  most  heavy  and 
grievous  damage,  thus  to  lose,  as  it  were  at  one  blow, 
our  tall  ship,  freighted  with  great  provision,  gathered 
with  much   care,  long  time,  and  difficulty,  and   spe- 


374  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

cially  the  loss  of  our  men  to  the  number  of  ahnost  an 
hundred  souls.  Of  this  our  crew,  there  was  no  one 
who  looked  more  resolvedly  unto  death  than  did  the 
Captain,  for  when  all  hope  was  past,  of  recovering  the 
ship,  and  men  began  to  give  over  and  save  them- 
selves, he  would  not  consent  to  fly  therefrom,  but  be- 
took him  unto  the  highest  deck,  and  I  placed  myself 
beside  him,  where  we  both  commended  ourselves 
unto  God !  How  long  he  lived  after  I  know  not,  for 
the  rushing  sea  soon  made  all  level ;  and,  thereby  be- 
reft of  my  senses,  I  floated  unto  the  shore  of  Wells 
upon  a  broken  piece  of  the  vessel. 

After  this  most  hapless  manner  did  I  again  get  me 
unto  my  native  England,  where  divers  dwellers  upon 
the  coast  received  us  with  much  charity.  I  learned, 
moreover,  what  were  unto  me  good  tidings,  namely, 
that  Henry  of  Lancaster  had  died  some  three  months 
past ;  before  which,  in  the  pangs  of  death,  he  had  hea- 
vily bethought  him  of  his  sins,  and  did  what  he  might 
to  blot  them  out  by  alms,  prayers,  and  many  bitter 
tears,  as  well  as  some  endeavour  at  restitution  unto 
such  as  he  had  oppressed.  In  especial,  he  passed  a 
full  remission  towards  all  who  were  in  any  jeopardy 
from  his  laws,  for  things  formerly  done,  the  which 
made  me  again  safe  in  England,  even  should  any  re- 
member me ;  but  I  wot  well  that  every  year  was  now 
making  great  change  in  my  visage,  beside  that  it  was 
also  much  altered  by  my  travels  in  distant  countries. 
The  realm  was  at  this  time  rejoicing  in  having  ex- 


I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  375 

changed  the  gloomy  and  vigorous  sway  of  the  first 
Harry  Tudor,  for  the  stately  and  merry  governance 
of  his  young  and  lusty  son,  now  called  King  Henry 
VIII. ;  who  was  a  Prince  of  good  person,  and  much 
given  to  costly  disports  and  pageants,  albeit  he  was 
fairly  read  and  wondrous  subtle  in  school-divinity. 
Howbeit,  in  my  mind  all  was  now  a  sad  and  dreary 
waste ;  for  that  I  was  bereft  of  every  friend  or  compa- 
nion, and  stood,  as  it  were,  alone  in  a  merry  world:  yet, 
even  in  that  most  mournful  hour,  was  I  upheld  by  the 
merciful  Providence  of  God  ;  for  He,  without  whose 
will  not  even  a  sparrow  falleth,  kept  me  from  despair, 
and  had  already  provided  a  retreat  for  my  wearied 
body,  and  consolation  for  my  sorrowful  heart. 

Having  now  received  such  aid  as  the  poor  inhabit- 
ants of  Wells  were  able  to  bestow  upon  us,  I  wan- 
dered alone,  and  in  gloomy  mood,  some  five  miles  far- 
ther towards  the  Town  of  Walsingham,  it  now  being 
Sunday,  the  22nd  of  July,  and  the  Feast  of  St.  JMary 
Magdalene,  about  one  of  the  clock  after  noon ;  what 
time  the  Abbey-bell  had  left  calling  together  the  peo- 
ple, to  hear  a  sermon  out  of  the  Word  of  God.   It  is  all 
but  too  seldom  that  men  be  found  to  crowd  together 
imto  such  holy  exhortations,  but  now  there  were  full 
many  gathered  in  the  nave  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  to 
hear  a  certain  Friar  preach   from  the  stone  pulpit 
which  yet  standeth   in  the  great  Western    window. 
Yet  of  this  congregation,  there  were  divers  who  came 
and  ordered  them  in  that  most  irreverent  wise,  wliich 


376  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

I  remember  me  was  once  full  common  in  the  Churches 
of  this  realm.  For  some  would  come  to  shew  their 
gay  attire,  and;,  therefore^  strutted  up  and  down  even 
whiles  the  holy  service  was  being  said  ;  others  would 
meet  in  the  porches,  during  IMatins,  and  babble  of 
law-pleadings  and  causes,  bargains,  and  the  like; 
and  another  sort  would  bring  with  them  their  spar- 
hawks  and  falcons,  or  dogs  in  lines  and  leashes :  so 
that  the  whole  Church  and  the  more  pious  sort  there- 
in, would  be  all  disquieted  with  the  barking  of  the 
hounds,  ringing  of  the  hawks'  bells  and  chains, 
and  fluttering  of  their  M'ings;  beside  the  clatter  of 
such  as  were  wont  to  wander  about  before  the  altars 
in  their  slippers,  and  most  persons  did  ever  wear 
their  bonnets.* 

The  Friar  who  was  now  to  preach,  was  called  Bro- 
ther Chrysostom,  because  of  his  sweet  and  holy 
eloquence,  which  brought  much  people  to  hear  him ; 
and  it  was  told  me  that  on  this  day  he  was  to  discourse 
of  the  life  and  pious  retirement  of  St.  Mary  Magda- 
lene, and  of  Contempt  of  the  World.  He  was  an  aged 
man  at  the  time  whereof  I  write,  and  is  now  gone 
unto  his  rest  and  his  reward,  before  evil  days  came 
upon  his  House :  but,  as  divers  of  his  Sermons  were 
long  kept  in  the  Library-room  of  Walsingham  Abbey, 


*  These  highly  irreverent  customs  in  Churches,  are  also  de- 
scribed in  a  very  curious  and  interesting  manner  in  Alexander 
Barclay's  Shi])  of  Fools. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  377 

I  can  yet  set  down  a  part  of  that  which  I  did  now 
hear. 

The  pious  Monk  first  told  us  of  the  history  of  St. 
Mary  Magdalene,  as  collected  out  of  divers  good  and 
ancient  authors  ;  shewing  her  lineage  and  honourable 
birth  of  Syrus  and  Eucaria  at  Hierusalem  ;  her  dwell- 
ing at  the  Castle  of  iMagdalene  nigh  unto  Nairn  City, 
whence  she  took  her  surname ;  her  life  of  sin,  until 
her  sister  Martha  persuaded  her  to  go  and  hear  one  of 
the  sermons  of  Our  Saviour  Christ ;  and  her  sudden 
and  mighty  conversion,  by  the  wondrous  words  of 
Him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake.  Then  did  he 
recount  how  she  shewed  her  repentance  by  anointing 
His  feet,  in  the  House  of  Simon  the  Pharisee ;  how 
she  did  thereupon  receive  the  remission  of  all  her  sins, 
both  «  poena,  et  a  culpa,  from  the  guilt  and  the  penance  : 
how  she  ever  after  desired  to  be  much  at  the  feet  of 
Christ,  never  looking  any  other  man  in  the  face  ;  and 
how,  after  His  Passion,  she  some  time  dwelt  with  the 
Virgin  Mary.  Moreover  he  instructed  us,  how  some 
authors  have  written  that,  wlien  the  Gentiles  perse- 
cuted the  Christians,  IMary  IMagdalene,  her  sister 
JMartha,  and  tlieir  brother  Lazarus,  with  Maximianus 
the  disciple,  and  Gelidonius  the  blind  man  whom 
Christ  had  healed  with  clay  put  upon  his  eyes,  Mar- 
cella,  the  hand-maiden  of  Martha,  and  many  others 
of  the  true  Faith,  were  put  into  an  old  barque,  without 
oars  or  sails,  and  so  launched  forth  to  sea  that  they 
might  be  drowned.     Howbeit,  by  the    aid  of  God, 


378  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

they  arrived  safely  at  Marseilles  in  France,  and  con- 
verted all  that  Province  unto  Christ ;  St.  Lazarvis 
being  made  Bishop  of  that  City,  and  JMaximianus 
Bishop  of  another  called  Aquius.  For  St.  IMary 
IMagdalene,  she  also  converted  many  souls  unto  God, 
and  then  retired  herself  unto  a  cave  in  the  deserts, 
where  she  led  a  solitary  life  for  some  thirty  years,  her 
food  being  herbs  and  roots ;  and  in  that  place  Avould 
she  oft-times  hear  celestial  harmony,  being  lifted  up 
by  angels  seven  times  in  the  day  and  night,  two  cubits 
from  the  ground. 

The  good  ]Monk  had  failed  not,  throughout  all  his 
Discourse,  to  shew  us  that,  as  these  things  were  writ- 
ten for  our  instruction,  there  belonged  unto  them  a 
mystical  signification  as  well  as  a  natural  one  ;  and 
Avhen  lie  arrived  at  the  retirement  of  St.  INIary  into 
the  deserts,  he  said  as  followeth. — "  My  dear  Bre- 
thren, I  come  now  to  shew  unto  you  the  benefits  of  a 
holy  retreat  from  the  world,  and  an  intercourse  with 
God.  He  who  standeth  upon  a  high  and  steadfast  rock 
in  the  raging  tempest,  may  look  out  unto  the  stormy 
sea  and  yet  fear  nothing  of  the  strife  of  the  wild 
waters  whereon  he  gazeth.  And  herein  I  would  have 
you  to  note,  the  safe  and  happy  condition  of  such  as 
have  fled  from  the  world,  and  are  retreated  unto,  and 
resting  upon,  the  Rock  Christ;  with  the  pity  with 
which  they  can  look  abroad  upon  the  fierce  turmoils 
around  thera.  We  know  that  this  life  is  a  life  of  pain 
and  labour,  wherefore  it  is  that  rest  and  refection  be  so 


THE    LAST   OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  379 

sweet  unto  men.  But  what,  I  pray  you,  is  the  rest  or 
the  refection  of  this  world,  when  compared  with  that 
which  Our  Lord  offereth  in  Himself  in  the  Gospel  ? 
when  He  saith,  '  Venite  ad  me,  oinnes  qui  laboratis  et 
onerati  estis,  et  Ego  rejiciam  vos,'  Come  unto  Me,  all 
who  do  labour,  and  ye  that  be  heavily  laden,  and 
I  will  refresh  you.  And  this  is  nothing  else  than 
coming  out  of  tlie  world  into  His  Church  or  service ; 
because  whilst  we  be  engaged  with  the  world,  we 
cannot  enjoy  the  sweetness  of  an  holy  life,  nor  cast 
from  us  the  cares  under  which  Ave  laboui*,  nor  the 
sins  wherewith  w^e  be  so  heavily  laden. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Brethren,  I  do  earnestly  ex- 
hort and  invite  you  all,  to  set  as  lightly  by  this  world 
as  you  may,  to  the  end  that  at  last  you  may  entirely 
quit  it  without  sorrow.  But  for  such  of  you  as  have 
few,  or  no  ties,  to  hold  you  unto  it ;  who  have  found 
in  it  nought  but  disappointments,  enemies,  and  per- 
secutions, whereof  ye  may  well  be  weary ;  or  have 
committed  in  it  nought  but  sins,  wherewith  ye  are 
indeed  heavily  laden  ; — you  do  I  charge  at  once  to 
come  out  of  it,  unto  the  blessed  rest  and  refection  of 
Christ  in  solitude,  where  you  shall  be  freed  from  all 
your  sorrows.  And  think  not  that  you  give  up  any 
thing  herein  ;  since  the  life  whereto  I  invite  you  is 
full  of  peace  and  heavenly  rest.  The  holy  St.  Austin 
saith,  in  his  book  of  Confessions,  '  Oh  !  you  who  doat 
on  this  world,  for  what  victory  do  you  fight?  your 
hopes  can  be  crowned  with  no  greater  guerdon  than 


380      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

the  world,  and  what  is  that  but  a  brittle  thing  full  of 
dangers,  Avherein  we  travel  from  lesser  unto  greater 
perils  ?  so  let  all  it's  vain,  light,  momentary,  glory 
perish  with  it,  and  let  us  be  conversant  with  more 
eternal  things.'  And  to  effect  this,  there  is  no  course 
like  retirement,  whereof  the  good  Abbot  Gersenus 
sheweth  the  benefits,  in  his  first  book  of  the  Imita- 
tion of  Our  Lord,  when  he  saith  what  spiritual  ex- 
cellence belonged  unto  the  Holy  Fathers  of  old, 
who  became  aliens  unto  the  world,  but  the  adopted 
sons  and  intimate  friends  of  God.  They  resigned 
riches,  dignities,  honours,  friends,  and  kindred,  desir- 
ing to  have  neither  right  nor  part  in  worldly  matters, 
leading  their  rigorous  and  solitary  lives  in  the  de- 
serts ;  where,  albeit  they  laboured  hard,  prayed  and 
fasted  much,  rested  little,  and  had  many  fierce  con- 
flicts with  the  Enemy  himself,  they  did  yet  enjoy 
spiritual  repose,  refection,  and  triumph.  But  we 
invite  you  not  unto  such  trials  as  these,  which,  per- 
cliance  men  may  not  now  endure.  We  call  you  not 
vmto  the  haunted  ruins  of  St.  Anthony,  the  broken 
pillar  of  St.  Simon,  the  sea-beaten  cavern  of  St.  Re- 
gulus,  the  desert-den  of  St.  Hierome,  the  open  wilder- 
ness of  the  Baptist,  or  the  shelterless  estate  of  Our 
Lord  Himself,  seeing  that  divers  fair  dwellings  be  now 
edified  for  such  as  list  to  live  an  holy  retired  life,  and 
give  themselves  unto  God,  after  their  example,  sheAv- 
ing  as  it  were  unto  Heaven  an  easier  and  more  excel- 
lent way. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  381 

"  Come  then,  my  dear  unfortunate  axid  penitent 
Brethren,  quit  the  world,  enter  into  this  holy  rest, 
embrace  at  once  this  life  of  perfection,  and  so  cast 
away  both  your  sins  and  your  sorrows.  As  the  holy 
St.  Chrysostom  saith  in  his  Epistles,  '  Contemn 
riches,  and  thus  shalt  thou  be  rich ;  contemn  glory, 
and  thou  shalt  be  glorious ;  contemn  injuries,  and. 
thou  shalt  be  a  conqueror  ;  contemn  rest,  and  thou 
shalt  find  repose  ;  contemn  earth, — and  thou  shalt 
gain  Heaven  ! '  " 

Thus  ended  the  Sermon  of  Brother  Chrysostom, 
whereupon  his  hearers  hastily  crowded  out  of  the 
Church,  much  praising  his  passing  sweet  discourse ; 
albeit,  peradventure,  none  purposed  to  amend  his  life 
thereby,  or  to  leave  the  delights  of  the  Avorld  that  he 
might  give  himself  unto  prayer,  meditation,  and  soli- 
tude. But,  for  mine  own  part,  I  still  remained  stand- 
ing in  the  midst  of  the  nave  of  St.  Mary's  Church, 
musing  on  the  retirement  whereof  the  Preacher  had 
spoken;  thinking  how  long  since  it  had  been  em- 
braced and  enjoyed  by  the  Lady  Bride,  and  deeming 
that  it  was  well  befitting  unto  me  in  my  present  sail 
estate ;  the  which  brought  tears  into  mine  eyes,  even 
in  spite  of  mine  endeavours  to  restrain  them.  Whilst 
thus  absorbed  in  sorrow,  1  remembered  not  that  those 
around  me  might  be  led  to  note,  and,  perchance,  to 
scoff,  at  mine  affliction ;  deeming  that  as  I  marked 
not  who  stood  near  me  or  passed  me  by,  so  I  migJit 
remain  unmarked  of  all  others. 


382      THE  LAST  OP  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

But  wliilst  I  was  thus  sadly  musing,  the  voice  of 
one  behind  me  thus  suddenly  brake  upon  mine  ear. 
"  Pax  vobiscum,  my  son  ;  dost  thou  seek  aught  in  the 
Abbey,  or  hast  thou  not  marked  that  the  people  have 
departed,  seeing  that  the  holy  service  is  ended?" 
Upon  which  salutation  I  turned  me,  and,  beholding 
the  aged  INIonk  who  had  been  preaching,  I  replied 
"  Truly,  good  Father,  I  was  so  lost  in  contemplating 
your  fervent  invitations  unto  a  holy  retirement,  with 
mine  own  sorrows  and  present  forloi-n  condition,  that 
I  wist  not  that  I  stood  here  alone.  Vale,  Pater  Reve- 
rendissime,  I  will  forthwith  retire." 

But  ere  I  might  turn  from  him,  the  good  Father 
Chrysostom  laid  his  hand  upon  my  garment,  saying, 
*'  And  wherefore  weepest  thou,  ray  son  ?  and  why  is 
thy  heart  thus  sorrowful  ?  bethink  thee  that  to  la- 
ment as  those  who  have  no  hope,  is  both  idle  and 
sinful  in  such  as  are  the  heirs  of  immortal  happiness  ; 
seeing  that  this  life  is  but  very  brief,  and  that  the  un- 
changeable and  eternal  Kingdom  of  God  is  at  hand." 

Both  the  words  of  this  speech  and  the  voice  of  him 
who  addressed  me,  fell  with  refreshing  sweetness 
upon  my  woe- worn  soul :  like  as  the  evening-dew 
falleth  upon  the  fainting  frame  of  him,  who  hath  tra- 
velled over  the  deserts  through  the  scorching  noon- 
tide. I  replied,  then,  by  saying  that,  from  the  loss 
of  all  mine  earthly  friends  and  the  overthrow  of  all 
my  worldly  hopes,  I  well  knew  the  shortness  and 
micertainty  of  life,  and  that  I  did  indeed  desire  to  be 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  383 

rid  thereof  and  enter  upon  a  better.  But  that  as  I  must 
still  say  with  holy  Job^,  that  I  would  await  my  time 
until  my  change  come,  so,  until  that  hour  arrived,  to 
feel  and  to  bemoan  sorrow  was  only  the  portion  of 
man,  whatever  were  his  future  hopes  :  even  as  the 
bravest  and  stoutest  barque  was  still  tossed  iipon  the 
billows,  though  her  pilot  were  ever  so  skilful  and  her 
haven  full  in  sight. 

"  Yea,"  answered  the  INIonk,  "  that  may  well  be, 
seeing  that  the  wood  and  metal  whereof  ships  be 
made,  are  alway  subject  unto  the  laws  of  this  mate- 
rial world ;  and  so  must  rise  and  sink  as  the  waters 
swell  and  fall,  and  drive  before  the  winds  as  they  do 
change.  But  I  ween  that  it  is  full  different  with  the 
immortal  mind  of  man,  for  that  being  a  spark  from 
God's  own  Spirit,  may  still  rise  above  the  created 
things  of  this  visible  world ;  whilst  the  hopes 
which  Faith  brings  will  sustain  the  Christian  hero 
under  all  present  evils,  by  the  glorious  prospect 
which  she  openeth  to  him  of  future  joy." 

I  assented  unto  his  kind  and  holy  admonitions,  and, 
as  my  spirit  grew  somewhat  lightened  thereby,  we 
passed  towards  the  cloister,  having  fallen  into  a  con- 
ference which  lasted  some  space  ;  for  the  good  Father 
Chrysostom  had  so  won  upon  me  with  his  discourse 
and  gentle  manners,  that  I  told  him  such  part  of  my 
sorrowful  life  as  I  best  might  with  prudence  disclose, 
saying,  that  I  was  the  son  of  a  great  Noble  who  was 
slain  at  Bosworth  Field.     On  hearing  this,  whilst  he 


384  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    PLANTAGENETS. 

censured  me  like  some  grave  Saint  for  yielding  unto 
despair,  he  wept  as  a  man  over  my  sufferings  ;  adding 
thereunto,  "  Son  of  sorrow,  as  I  may  with  truth  call 
thee,  thy  woes  have  indeed  been  heavy,  yet  forget 
not  the  Word  of  the  Lord  which  thou  hast  this  day 
heard ;  and  since  thou  hast  been  thus  evil-intreated 
by  the  world,  at  once  abandon  it  and  forthwith  hasten 
unto  God  for  rest." 

"And  whither,  good  Father,"  demanded  I,  "whi- 
ther shall  I  retreat  ?  I  trow  well  that  the  world  hath 
small  charms  for  me,  so  that  I  would  be  rid  of  it  by 
any  lawful  means ;  and  my  most  fervent  hope  is  to 
devote  me  hereafter  unto  the  cloister." 

"  If  such,"  responded  the  JMonk,  "  be  in  truth  thy 
sincere  and  steadfast  wish,  on  proof  thereof,  I  would 
gladly  give  my  poor  aid  to  make  thee  known  unto 
the  Lord  Prior  of  this  Abbey,  William  Lowth,  and 
the  Brethren  of  Our  Lady  of  Walsingham.  So  that 
thou  mayest  shelter  thee  at  once  under  the  covering 
wings  of  the  Church ;  and,  being  so  admitted,  become 
more  and  more  estranged  fronn  suffering  and  from 
sin.  Yet  let  me  add,  good  brother,  that  it  is  no 
small  thing  to  dwell  in  monasteries  blameless  and 
free  from  reproach ;  for,  as  St.  Anselm  well  noteth, 
'tis  not  the  habit  or  tonsure  which  maketh  the  monk, 
but  a  change  of  heart  and  a  mortification  of  the  pas- 
sions. But  full  happy  is  he,  as  the-  Abbot  Gersenus 
saith,  who  in  this  state  hath  passed  his  days  in  inno- 
cency  and  closed  them  with  success !" 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS.  385 

I  gave  him  hearty  thanks  for  his  offer  and  admoni- 
tions, most  gladly  accepting  of  the  same,  telling  him 
that  I  had  been  bred  in  a  Benedictine  Monastery,  and 
was  therefore  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  rule  of 
a  conventual  life  ;  and  so,  after  the  wonted  trials, 
was  I  safely  entered  as  a  Convert,  and  afterwards  as 
a  Canon,  in  the  Abbey  of  Walsingham,  by  the  name 
of  Brother  Richardus  of  Ely. 

I  may  never  forget,  albeit  the  remains  of  the  good 
Chrysostom  have  long  since  mouldered  away,  the 
spiritual  consolation  which  God  willed  that  I  should 
ever  find  in  him,  but  specially  in  his  words  at  this 
time.  They  seemed  to  give  unto  my  famished  and  en- 
feebled spirit,  the  succour  which  the  Hebrews  found 
in  the  manna,  that  was  wondrously  rained  around 
their  camp :  whilst  his  example  seemed  unto  me  like 
a  voice  in  the  desert,  or  the  pillars  of  cloud  and  fire, 
to  guide  me  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world. 
Before  becoming  a  Brother  of  his  Abbey,  the  desires 
which  I  had  heretofore  formed  of  a  monastic  life 
often  came  back  unto  my  memory,  and  I  saw  in  the 
interview  which  I  have  now  recounted,  the  means  of 
realising  that  holy  contentment  and  tranquillity  I 
had  ever  fondly  looked  unto ;  albeit,  in  the  anxious 
troubles  of  my  changeful  life,  they  had  been  oft-times 
disregarded  or  forgotten. 

Yet  would  I  neither  deny  nor  conceal  that,  even 
whilst  thus  resigning  the  world,  some  painful  remem- 
brances of  my  former  love  and  dreams  of  greatness 

2  c 


i 


386      THK  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

hung  about  mine  heart,  whereof  my  ftmtasy  would 
frame  a  full  gay  picture  of  what  might  have  been, 
the  which  vain  expectancies  I  had  now  renounced  for 
ever.  Yet  had  I  no  merit  in  thus  yielding  up  mine 
earthly  love  or  ambitious  hopes  unto  Heaven,  for 
conscience  whispered  unto  me,  that  I  had  resigned 
them  only  when  I  might  never  hope  to  possess  them. 
Howbeit,  like  too  many  who  bring  a  seeming  rich 
gift  unto  the  altar,  I  wished,  full  weakly,  to  glorify 
myself  for  sacrificing  the  world  unto  God :  yet  do  I 
now  shrewdly  fear  that,  had  I  ever  attained  unto  the 
wild  dreams  of  my  youth,  and  had  been  united  unto 
the  Lady  Bride, — neither  the  blessed  content  of  a  holy 
life,  nor  a  Saint's  golden  palm  or  starry  diadem,  nor 
the  unseen  and  unspeakable  joys  of  Heaven  itself, — 
would  have  led  me,  weak  as  I  was,  contentedly  to 
have  resigned  them. 


CHArTER  XXII. 

THE    LIFE    OF    A    nELIGIOUS    RECLUSE,     AND    A    ROYAL 
PILGRIMAGE    TO    WALSINGHABI. 


Welcome,  pure  thoughts  !  Welcome,  ye  silent  groves  ! 

These  guests,  these  courts,  my  soul  most  dearly  loves: — 

A  prayer-book  now  shall  be  my  looking-glass. 

In  which  I  will  adore  my  Maker's  face. 

Here  dwell  no  hateful  looks,  no  pnlace-carcs. 

No  broken  vows  dwell  here,  nor  pale-faced  fears ; 

Then  here  I'll  sit,  and  sigh  my  hot  youth's  folly, 

And  learn  to  affect  an  holy  melancholy ; 

And  if  Contentment  be  a  stranger, — then 

I'll  ne'er  look  for  it,  but  in  Heaven  again. 

.Sir  Henry  Wotton. 

As  I  went  to  Walsingham, 

To  the  Shrink  witli  speede  ; 
Met  I  with  a  jolly  Palmar, 

Clad  in  a  Pilgrim's  weedc. 

Old  Ballad  cited  av  Bishop  Percy. 


"Fiat  Pax  in  Virtute  tua,  et  abundantly  in 
TuRRiBus  tuis  I"  Let  Peace  be  Avithin  thy  walls,  and 
Prosperity  within  thy  towers !  was  insculped  above 
the  chief  gate  of  that  holy  IMonastery  which  had  now 
become  mine  abode.     And,  in  good  sooth,  it  seemed 


3H8  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

unto  me,  as  if  I  liad  suddenly  found  there  the  tranquil- 
lity, which  the  world  giveth  not  nor  takes  away  ; — the 
quiet  rest  for  which  I  had  long  been  searching:  since 
the  storms  and  dreariness  of  mine  heart  had  suddenly 
passed,  the  tempest  ceased,  and  there  was  a  great 
calm.  It  seemed  as  if  the  tumults  of  the  world,  could 
now  reach  me  no  more  ;  and  as  though  the  wild  con- 
fusion which  I  had  once  beheld  therein,  was  but  a 
troublous  dream  of  the  night  out  of  which  I  was  hap- 
pily awakened.  Yea,  and  not  only  awakened,  but 
called  therefrom  to  think  upon  the  fairest  images  of 
celestial  glory,  which  pointed  out  a  Heaven  hereafter, 
and  almost  gave  me  a  revelation  of  the  Beatific 
Vision,  even  whilst  I  was  yet  upon  earth. 

I  will  not  here  set  down  how  stately  and  fitting  a 
temple  of  God,  was  the  far-famed  Abbey  of  Walsing- 
ham  in  it's  days  of  glory  ;  because,  all  despoiled  and 
dishonoured  as  it  hath  since  been,  enough  of  it  re- 
maineth  to  speak  somewhat  of  it's  wonted  magnifi- 
cence :  and  to  shew  that  he,  whom  holy  contemplation 
or  calamity  had  weaned  from  the  base  and  fleeting 
enjoyments  of  life,  might  not  desire  a  fairer  asylum 
wherein  to  give  his  last  days  unto  devotion,  repose, 
or  sacred  tranquillity. 

Yet  was  not  so  rich  and  noted  a  Siirine  as  this,  so 
retired  from  the  world  as  to  hear  no  reports  of  that 
which  was  passing  abroad ;  because,  through  tlie 
frequent  visitations  of  Pilgrims  and  others,  many 
tidings  of  public  things  found  their  May  even  unto 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  389 

this  holy  retreat,  some  whereof  were  written  into  our 
own  Chronicles  to  keep  them  in  memory. — Thus,  we 
heard  how  the  fraudful  instruments  of"  the  late  Harry 
Tudor's  extortion.  Sir  Richard  Empson  and  Edmund 
Dudley,  in  the  year  1510,  were  convicted  and  exe- 
cuted as  traitors  ;  their  meaner  agents  being  killed  by 
the  people.     It  was  told  us   how   in   1513,  the  new 
Pope  Leo  X.  entered  into  a  league  with  King  Henry 
against  Louis   XII.  of  France,   sending   unto  him  a 
barque   laden  with  choice  viands  and  rich  wines  as 
gifts,  and  indulgences  and  holy  symbols  for  such  as 
should    go   with    him  to   Avar  against  that    country. 
Anon  we  heard  how  Henry  had  gone  upon  that  ex- 
pedition in  person,  with  much  state,  having  a  great 
power  of  near  15,000  men  ;  and  retaining  the  famous 
Almaine  Emperor  IMaximilian  and  his  host,  who  wore 
St.  George's  Cross,  and  had  an  hundred  crowns  for 
their  daily  payment.     Thereafter  came  the  Battle  of 
Spurs,  and  the  taking  of  Tournay,  and  then  the  Earl 
of  Surrey's  victory  over  the  Scots  at  Floddon-field, 
wherein    King    James    IV.    was    slain;     whereupon 
Queen    Catherine  came  unto  Walsingham,    and    re- 
turned Our  Lady  great  thanks  for  the  same :  and  in 
1514  we  were  told  of  a  treaty  of  peace  with  France, 
and  how  Henry's  younger  sister,  IMary,  was  married 
unto  King  Louis.     About  this  time,   moreover,    we 
heard  much  of  the  sudden,  yet  deserved,  greatness 
of  Thomas  Wolsey,  an  especial  favourite  of  the  late 
Henry  of  Lancaster,  who   now   became  Lord   High 


390  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

Chancellor  ;  being,  at  the  same  time,  a  Cardinal-Le- 
gate, Archbishop  of  York^,  and  the  holder  of  two 
Bishoprics,  with  many  other  great  Church-dignities 
in  commendam.  So  powerful  and  rich  a  priest  was 
certainly  never  seen  in  England,  and  he  was  withal 
fitted  for  much  honour,  being  a  great  statesman  and  a 
good  scholar,  though  somewhat  proud  and  vain-glori- 
ous ;  but  his  full  sad  fall,  many  years  after  this,  made 
me  to  pity  him  yet  more  than  I  had  ever  blamed  him. 
In  the  year  1516,  I  remember  me  that  the  Queen 
Catherine  took  unto  her  chamber  in  great  state,  and 
that  we  were  ordered  to  make  prayers  that  she  should 
have  a  good  hour ;  the  which  did  soon  after  follow 
in  the  birth  of  the  Princess  Mary,  that  now  is,  at 
Greenwich,  on  Monday,  the  8th  day  of  February, 
about  four  of  the  clock  in  the  morning,  whereupon 
thanksgivings  were  commanded  to  be  said  through- 
out England.  The  next  year  had  but  few  things  of 
much  note,  saving  a  great  insurrection  of  the  London 
apprentices  against  the  merchant-strangers  of  their 
City,  for  the  which  many  were  executed ;  and  a  fear- 
ful return  of  the  sweating  sickness,  which  carried 
away  such  as  were  taken  with  it  within  three  hours 
after,  whereby  some  towns  had  half  of  their  inhabi- 
tants suddenly  swept  away. — But  all  these  events, 
albeit  I  noted  them  with  some  attention  when  they 
were  first  imparted,  came  unto  us  so  uncertainly,  and 
often  so  long  after  the  times  at  which  they  chanced, 
that  they  seemed  unto  me  to  be  scarcely  the  tidings 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAOENETS.  391 

of  real  actions,  but  rather  the  pictures  thereof;  like 
unto  those  which  amuse  the  eyes  of  childhood,  in  the 
history  of  ages  gone  by,  and  leave  but  fev;  traces  upon 
the  wit  or  the  memory. 

Howbeit,  a  season  did  at  last  arrive,  when  tidings 
of  great  import  unto  our  Abbey  were  brought  thi- 
ther with  unwonted  haste.  The  youth  of  the  second 
Harry  Tudor  had  been  for  the  most  part  spent  in 
revelry  and  costly  disports ;  for,  when  he  came  unto 
that  throne  which  his  father  had  violently  rent  from 
mine,  he  was  much  favoured  of  the  people,  for  his 
lusty  and  laughing  disposition  of  mind  rather  than  for 
his  grace  or  piety.  But  he  now  signified  that  he  had 
a  2)urpose  of  rendering  honour  unto  the  Shrine  of 
Our  Lady  of  Walsingham,  by  visiting  the  same  in 
kingly  state,  albeit  with  the  lowly  demeanour  and 
signs  of  a  pilgrim.  He  had  indeed  already  travelled 
hither  in  1511,  between  the  Feast  of  the  Purification 
and  the  Queen's  Churching,  and  made  an  offering  of 
half  a  mark,  but  such  pious  conduct  as  that  now  de- 
clared unto  us,  was  on  his  part  all  imlooked-for  by 
me ;  yet  may  I  say  that  I  w  as  in  truth  inwardly  re- 
joiced thereat,  inasmuch  as  that  the  son  should  thus 
seem  to  do  some  penance,  and  make  some  atonement, 
for  the  sins  of  the  father. 

William  Lowth,  who,  as  I  have  said,  was  Lord 
Prior  of  Walsingham  Abbey  when  I  became  a  Bro- 
ther thereof,  was  forced,  from  a  contention  with  his 
Canons,  to  lay  down  his  honours  on  the  31st  day  of 


392  THE     LAST    OF    Til  K     1»1>ANTAGKNETS. 

August,  in  the  year  1514,  after  whom  came  one  Rich- 
ard Vowell,  Prior  of  Lees,  in  Essex,  who  held  our 
Abbey  at  the  time  of  Henry's  visit;  namely,  on 
Tuesday,  the  Feast  of  the  Nativity  of  Our  Lady,  the 
Sixth  of  the  Ides  of  September,  or  eighth  day  thereof, 
in  the  year  of  Grace  1517-  It  was  by  him  deemed 
good,  albeit  the  King  came  in  such  lowly  and  be- 
seeming guise,  that  our  House  and  Shrine  should 
make  large  display  of  the  wealth  belonging  thereunto  : 
though  this  methought  was  vain,  seeing  that  the  re- 
venues of  the  Fraternity  were  but  small,  though  the 
riches  of  St.  Mary's  Shrine  were  indeed  great.* — 
These,  therefore,  were  all  set  forth,  to  shew  how  emi- 
nent had  been  the  zeal  of  former  benefactors  there- 
unto ;  and  so  to  win  the  King  to  emulate  the  greatest 
of  their  gifts. 

The  spot  wherein  the  chiefest  beauty  and  glory  of 
this  most  famous  Shrine  were  shewn,  was  a  dark 
little  boarded  Chapel  within  our  unfinished  Church, 
some  eight  yards  long  and  nearly  five  broad ;  on 
either  side  whereof,  was  a  narrow  door  of  entrance  for 
such  as  came  hither  for  devotion  or  offering.  A  full 
sweet  perfume  was  ever  kept  burning  therein,  and  it 
had  no  light  but  that    which   the  illumined  tapers 


*  Dugdale  states  the  possessions  of  this  Monastery  to  have 
been  valued  at  £391 :  Us.  T^d.  annually  ;  but  Speed  calls  them 
X446  :  145.  4|fZ.,  besides  the  offerings  to  the  Shrine,  which  have 
been  estimated  at  £2C>() :  ]2s.  4^d.  yearly. 


t 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  393 

flashed  upon  the  silver,  gold,  jewels,  and  rich  images, 
that  glistened  at  the  high  altar  by  the  Virgin's  effigy ; 
beside  which  stood  Brother  Hugh  Blyford,  the  Keeper 
of  that  Chapel,*  in  his  Canon's  black  and  white  habit, 
to  receive  such  other  gifts  as  should  be  made  unto  it. 
Men  might  in  truth  have  thought  that  place  the  seat 
of  the  Saints  ;  and  I  may  not  describe  the  lustrous 
radiance  which  surrounded  it,  from  the  precious  gems 
heretofore  brought  unto  the  Shrine,  by  such  as  made 
offering  of  their  wealth  unto  the  Blessed  Virgin  and 
her  Son,  as  the  Holy  Kings  of  old  did  at  the  Nativity 
at  Bethlehem.  Truly  rare  and  beauteous  were  these 
jewels,  from  the  rubies  and  amethysts  wherewith  the 
effigy  was  crowned,  unto  the  wondrous  stone  at  it's 
feet,  which  they  of  P'rance  do  call  a  Crapaudine,  or 
Toad-stone  ;  because  the  living  creature  never  shewed 
itself  more  plainly,  than  it  was  therein  expressed. 

Nor  were  our  holier  treasures  forgotten,  such  as 
those  sacred  reliques  and  marvellous  things  which  we 
enjoyed  by  special  favour  of  the  Virgin;  they  being 
set  forth  in  the  most  honourable  wise.     Of  these  were 


*  This  officer  is  mentioned  by  Blomefield  in  his  History  of 
Norfolk,  where  it  is  also  stated  that  he  was  buried  in  the  Clia- 
pel  he  served  in  1534.  Tlie  unfinished  state  of  Walsingham 
Abbey  Church  is  noticed  by  Erasmus,  who  visited  it  about 
the  period  referred  to  in  tlie  text :  he  states  that  the  doors 
and  windows  were  all  open,  and  that  the  wind  blew  through 
tlie  Imilding. 


394  THE    LAST    OF    TIIK    rLANTAOENETS, 

a  portion  of  the  Milk  of  Our  Lady,  and  the  Blood  of 
Our  Lord,  each  being  kept  from  every  profane  touch 
in  crystal  glasses  at  the  high-altar.  Such  were  also 
that  miraculous  Wicket-gate  of  the  which  I  have  be- 
fore spoken ;  and  two  blessed  wells  filled  with  won- 
drous cold  water,  from  a  spring  that  suddenly  burst 
out  of  the  ground  at  command  of  the  holy  Virgin,  of 
great  virtue  in  curing  pains  in  men's  bodies.  These 
fountains  have  since  been  defiled,  but  at  this  time  they 
might  be  seen  unpolluted,  covered  over  by  that  no  less 
marvellous  house,  more  hallowed  than  any  which  mor- 
tal hand  hath  been  employed  to  raise,  seeing  that  it  was 
brought  through  the  air, many  ages  before,  in  the  season 
of  mid-winter,  when  all  things  were  buried  in  the  snow, 
and  placed,  where  it  long  stood,  over  against  the  little 
Chapel  holding  the  Virgin's  Effigy.  A  fine  green 
path  led  unto  it,  made  specially  for  pilgrims,  and  a 
cross  stood  by,  whereat  they  might  kneel  and  in- 
wardly pray  whiles  they  drank  of  the  waters. 

It  was  from  the  little  Town  of  North-Basham,  two 
miles  distant,  that  Henry  came  unto  Walsingham, 
along  that  most  fair  and  ancient  road,  which  King 
Richard  IL,  in  his  eighth  year, — 1384-85, — did  grant 
a  patent  for  making  vmto  the  Virgin's  Chapel.  Right 
good  care  had  been  taken  to  consult  the  truest  records 
of  the  olden  times,  to  know,  by  ancient  precedent, 
how  we  should  receive  the  Royal  Pilgrim.  He  came 
at  length,  habited  in  lowly  garb,  like  any  Jerusalemite, 
with  scarf,  scrip,  and  bourdon-staff;  covered  about 


THJO    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS.  395 

with  a  long,  Avliite,  and  rough,  sclav'ma  oi-  robe  ;  and 
a  great  hat  of  skin  turned  up  above  his  visage :  his 
feet  were  bare,  but  I  ween  it  was  small  penance  so  to 
walk,  over  the  soft  green-sward  w-hich  led  unto  the 
Chapel  at  Walsingham.     IMoreover,   Henry  was  at- 
tended herein  by  many  of  his  Nobles,  and  his  guard 
going  round  him  on  all  sides  to  keep  off  the  press  ; 
but  albeit  he  was  in  so  mean  a  habit,  and  they  were 
clothed  in  their  wonted  bravery,  yet  were  all  unco- 
vered save  himself,  and  the  King  also  had  a  bold  step 
and  lofty  air,  which  even  in  this  journey  he  might 
not  hide,  and  which  shew-ed  him  to  be  the  chiefest  of 
all  the  company.     Our  Prior  and  his  Canons  in  their 
order,  met  him  at  Our  Lady's  Mount  of  Joy,   where 
the  stone  cross  was  set  up,  and  where  the  Pilgrims 
unto  this  Shrine  were  anciently  wont  to  rest  in  sight  of 
the  end  of  their  travel ;  and  there  we  gave  him  to  drink 
of  our  wondrous  wells.   When  he  had  knelt  and  prayed 
awhile  in  that  place,  he  was  brought  into  the  Church 
and  little  Chapel,  and  approached  the  Effigy  of  Our 
Lady  Avith  exceeding  reverence,  so  that  all  who  saw 
him  deemed  him  to  be  full  of  grace,  and  a  true  lover 
of  the  Holy   Church  ;   and  his   offering  was  indeed 
well  worthy   of  the  King  of  England,  being  a  great 
and  rich  collar  of  balas-rubies,  most  beauteous  to  be- 
hold. 

But,  Ah  me  !  how  little  can  we  blinded  mortals 
deem  of  the  future,  by  that  which  we  look  upon  of  the 
present ;  for  how  might  some  of  us  who  thus  witness- 


39t5 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 


ed  Henry's  unlooked-for  act  of  piety,  think  that,  long 
ere  our  mortal  course  was  run,  he  should  become  the 
fiercest  enemy  and  subverter  of  those  very  Shrines 
and  Monasteries  which  he  now  so  deeply  venerated. 
And,  yet  farther,  how  might  the  mind  of  man  ever 
conceive,  that  the  self-same  Effigy  which  was  then  so 
gloriously  bedecked,  and  which  the  King  approached 
so  reverently  to  adorn  yet  more  with  his  own  princely 
gift,  should,  even  at  his  command,  be  despoiled  of  all 
it's  treasures;  violently  torn  down  from  the  altar  where 
it  had  so  long  stood  ;  and,  at  last,  be  defiled  and  openly 
burned  at  Chelsea,  in  the  stormy  year  of  1539,  with 
such  foul  scoffings  and  revilings,  that  truly  my  pen 
refuseth  to  record  them  ? 

But  beside  King  Henry,  there  was  at  this  time  a 
certain  other  Pilgrim  came  unto  Walsingham  with  a 
devout  offering  ;  the  same  being  one  Peter  Blount,  an 
ancient  Goldsmith  of  good  fame,  who  had  long  dwell- 
ed in  Lombard-Street,  in  the  City  of  London,  but  was 
now  removed  unto  Norwich :  and  when  the  King 
had  left  the  altar,  he  came  forward  thereunto,  in  far 
less  state,  albeit  little  less  to  the  pleasure  of  our  Bro- 
therhood. He  presented  himself  at  our  Shrine,  be- 
cause he  deemed  it  good  for  his  soul's  health  to  bring 
thither  certain  gifts  ;  having,  as  he  said,  long  pur- 
posed to  make  such  disposition  of  some  part  of  his 
substance,  in  hope  that  the  intercession  of  Our  Lady 
and  the  prayers  of  her  servants,  might  blot  out  the 
sins  of  his  youthful  years,  and  his  too-anxious  desires 


THE    LAST    OF    THU    PLANTAGKNETS.  397 

and  fraudful  endeavours  after  riclies  in  his  later  life. 
By  this  act  he  looked  to  quiet  the  loud  voice  of  his 
conscience,  which  had  been  suddenly  awakened  in  a 
shrewd  fit  of  sickness  at  Dartford,  what  time  he 
was  travelling  from  Calais  towards  his  home;  the 
which  distemper  had  well  nigh  given  him  unto  the 
grave,  but  that  he  was  cured  by  the  gentle  care  and 
leech-like  skill  of  the  Austin-Nuns  of  St.  Mary  and 
St.  Margaret's  Priory  there.  He  did  then  vow,  to  go 
hereafter  upon  his  present  pilgrimage  ;  and  also  to 
carry  certain  other  gifts  unto  Dartford,  especially  a 
great  waxen  taper  of  his  own  height,  to  be  burned  at 
the  high-altar  in  memory  of  his  cure.*  His  offering  at 
Walsingham  was  a  golden  cup,  skilfully  chased  with 
the  most  lively  effigies  of  Christ,  the  Virgin,  and  tlie 
Apostles,  and  the  martyrdom  of  the  Saints  Stephen 
and  Bartholomew  ;  whereunto  he  added  500  marks  of 
gold, — <£333  :  6s.  iid. — to  be  bestowed  in  alms,  and 
for  the  support  of  our  Monastery. 


•  These  offerings  were  called  Statual  Tapers ;  and  the  His- 
toire  de  Paris  states,  that  after  the  battle  of  Poictiers,  on  the 
capture  of  John,  King  of  France,  a  taper  was  placed  before 
the  Virgin's  altar,  in  the  Church  of  Notre  Dame,  which  was 
said  to  be  equal  to  the  circumference  of  Paris ;  it  was  rolled 
round  the  circle  of  a  wheel,  and  burned  without  ceasing.  In 
some  cases  these  waxen  gifts  were  made  like  elfigies,  of  the 
height,  form,  and  weight,  of  the  person  represented ;  and 
figures  of  sick  or  refractory  animals,  were  sometimes  sent  to 
shrines  for  tiieir  recovery. 


398  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

Our  Prior  failed  not  greatly  to  thank  and  to  com- 
mend Master  Blount  for  his  devotion  and  charity, 
wherein  he  had  rightly  followed  the  command  of  Our 
Lord,  in  the  Gospel,  "  Facile  vohis  umicos  de  Mammona 
iniquitatLs,"  make  unto  you  friends  of  the  Mammon  of 
iniquity  ;  and  farther  declared,  that  he  had  been  right 
wise  in  delaying  no  longer  to  gain  him  that  quiet  of 
mind  which  he  would  assuredly  receive  from  perfect- 
ing so  pious  a  vow.  The  Goldsmith  replied  unto 
this,  that  the  Lord  Prior  had  well  said,  for  that  when 
worn  by  care,  or  toil,  or  the  coming  infirmities  of  old 
age,  he  oft-times  thought  that  his  good  intent  would 
at  last  be  too  late  for  his  rest  hereafter ;  and  that,  per- 
adventure,  he  might  be  called  away  from  earth  ere  he 
found  space  to  perform  it  at  all. 

"And  well  I  ween,  good  friend,"  responded  the 
Prior,  "  that  all  men  have  great  cause  to  think  and 
act  as  thou  hast  done ;  for  our  mortal  bodies  be  like 
unto  buildings,  which  yearly,  and  daily,  and  hourly^ 
are  being  taken  down,  or  are  falling  into  decay.  But 
how  soon  the  ruin  shall  be  finished,  we  know  not ; 
and  therefore  it  becometh  us  at  once  to  do  that  which 
we  wovdd  perform,  and  to  mark  well  what  Our  Lord 
hath  said,  '  Figilale,  itaque,  quia  nescitis  diem  neque 
horavi :'  watch  ye,  therefore,  because  ye  know  not 
the  day  nor  the  hour." — The  Prior  added  hereunto, 
with  wondrous  prudence  and  gravity,  though,  as 
methought  with  somewhat  of  dishonest  covetise, — 
that,  seeing  the  GoldsmitJi  was  now  far  advanced  in 


1 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGENETS.  399 

years,  and  it  was  a  full  long  and  toilsome  journey  unto 
Dartford ; — peradventure  it  should  tend  as  much 
unto  his  weal  hereafter,  if  he  should  add  that  which 
he  designed  for  the  Sisterhood  there,  vmto  the  gifts 
he  had  already  made  imto  our  House  and  Shrine. 
Yet,  natheless,  did  our  Superior  say,  if  IMaster 
Blount  did  still  persist  in  his  first  intent  of  bestow- 
ing aught  at  Dartford,  it  should  be  carried  thi- 
ther for  him";  if  not  by  the  Prior  in  person,  yet  by 
some  safe  and  speedy  messenger :  for,  that  although 
the  Goldsmith  had  once  vowed  to  go  thither  him- 
self, yet  might  he  be  absolved  therefrom  by  reason  of 
his  infirmity,  upon  sending  his  offering  and  journey- 
ing thither  in  spirit. 

This  courteous  offer  was  gladly  received  by  the 
Goldsmith,  and  this  course  being  concluded  on,  he 
departed  from  Walsingham  well  satisfied  at  having 
performed  both  his  vows  and  offerings  with  such  easy 
labour.  Howbeit,  some  weeks  passed  away,  ere  we 
received  JMaster  Blount's  waxen  taper  and  other  gifts 
for  the  Dartford  Nuns ;  but  then  did  it  become  mat- 
ter of  debate  in  the  Chapter  as  to  the  messengers  who 
should  be  sent  with  the  same :  and  it  was  at  last  re- 
solved that  they  should  be  entrusted  unto  Father 
George  Gisborough,  sometime  Sub- Prior  of  our  House, 
and  myself.  He,  I  do  hope  and  believe,  is  now  with 
God ;  albeit  he  died  by  the  late  King  Henry's  com- 
mand, as  did  many  other  pious  men,  for  not  acknow- 
ledging his  Supremacy  over  the  Church,  and  not  con- 


400      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANT AGENET9. 

senting   to  surrender  unto  him  our  Abbey  and  Mo- 
nastery. 

For  mine  own  part,  albeit  there  was  much  honour 
in  the  appointment  of  my   Brethren,  and  I  scrupled 
not  to  go  forth  at  their  call,  long  and  toilsome  as  the 
journey  might  be,  yet  was  it  not  an  employ  which  I 
did  at  all  covet.     For,  beside  that  I  felt  no  desire  to 
look  again  upon  the  world,  I  knew  that  I  could  not  tra- 
vel through  London  without   the  painfullest  memory 
of  the  days  that  were  gone,  and  of  my  former  dreams 
of  love  and  the  Lady  Bride  ;  the  which,  though  now 
resigned  for  ever,  were,  nevertheless,  still  much  too 
dear  unto  me.     Howbeit,  I  addressed  me  to  the  jour- 
ney, but   all  this  did  I   feel  in  travelling  into  Kent 
througli   Southwark,  as  I  saw   the  distant  towers  of 
Bermondsey  Abbey,   and  bethought  me  of  our  last 
strange   and   fatal    interview    therein,    with   all   the 
chances  which   had   since  followed.      Yet,   notwith- 
standing these  most  sad  remembrances,  I  paused  not, 
but  with  my  companions  kept  forward  unto  Dartford 
with  all  the  speed  we  might ;  and,  within  seven  days, 
we  arrived  at  that  most  fair  Convent  of  Austin-Nuns, 
which  the  piety  of  the  Third  King  Edward  of  Eng- 
land  founded,   and  dedicated  unto    the  holy    Saints 
Mary  and  Margaret.     It  was  now,  as  I  do  full   well 
remember,  the  Eve  of  the  Feast  of  St.  Martin,  Tues- 
day, the  10th  day  of  November,  about  the  hour  of 
Nones,  and  one  of  the  fairest  and  brightest  days  which 
the  departing  year  could  shew,  being  like  it's  last 


THK    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  401 

smile  cast  upon  the  coming  Winter,  or  the  glad  tran- 
quillity of  a  Saint  looking  upon  approaching  death. 

I  was  much   rejoiced,  at   thus  seeing  our   long  and 
wearisome  journey  of  nearly  130  miles,  brought  unto 
it's  conclusion  ;   and  I  may  not  conceal  that  I  also  felt 
somewhat  of  worldly  pride  and  pleasure,  in  looking 
forward  unto  the  honourable  welcome  we  should  re- 
ceive, from  being  the  bearers  of  such  costly  gifts  and 
good  tidings  unto  the  Convent.     But   when  we  de- 
clared our  names  and  mission  unto  an  ancient  Nun  at 
the  gate,   and   thereupon    desired    to    see    the   Lady 
Prioress,  I  felt  both  anger  and  amaze  at  finding  none 
such  joyous  greeting  as  I  had  looked  to  meet ;  for  sad 
and  solemn  were  the  countenances  of  all  whom  I  be- 
held, and  brief  and  gloomy  were  their  answers  unto 
our  gladsome   salutations.     Howbeit,  full  soon   were 
we  told  that  the   Prioress    of  that  House,  who  was 
much  beloved  and  reverenced  of  all  for  her  gentleness, 
piety,   many    virtues,    and  various   excellent  gifts, — 
was  even  then  lying   sick  unto  death  ;  having  for  a 
long  space  languished  under  a  wasting  fever,  which 
was  now  known  to  be  mortal,  her  last  hour  being  near 
at  hand.     I  ween  that  these  were  in  sooth  melancholy 
tidings,  yet  did  I  know  well  that  much  of  the  body's 
sorrows  might  be  cured,  by  cheering  and  giving  joy 
unto  the  heart ;  and  thereu])on  1  did  entreat,  that  the 
Lady  Prioress  should  forthw  ith  be  told  of  the  costly 
gifts  sent  unto  her  House,  by  the  hands  of  the  Sub- 
Prior  of  Walsingham   and  Brother  Richardus  of  Ely  : 

2    D 


402  THK    LAST -OF    THR    PIvANTAGKNETP, 

and  in  this  would  I  not  be  gainsaid,  because  of  the  great 
good  which  I  looked  to  rise  therefrom,  though  some 
doubted  whether  it  might  not  be  altogether  too  much 
for  her  weakened  frame.  But  presently  it  was  shewn 
that  I  had  not  erred  in  this  counsel ;  for  the  Formaria, 
or  over-seeing  Nun,  who  had  told  her  thereof,  came 
suddenly  back,  and  said  that,  upon  hearing  our  mis- 
sion, her  dim  and  closing  eyes  became  suddenly  open- 
ed and  lighted  up.  She  gave  unto  us  great  thanks  for 
coming  in  such  happy  time  to  shed  comfort  upon  her 
parting  hours  ;  and  she  added  tliat,  as  we  were  of  the 
same  Order  as  her  own  Convent,  she  would  now  make 
her  Confession,  deairing  that  one  of  us  should  forth- 
with attend  her  to  receive  it,  and  entreating  all  our 
prayers  for  her  safe  passage,  in  that  most  solemn 
change  which  she  well  knew  was  now  close  at  hand. 

The  aged  Sub-Prior,  my  companion,  did  hereupon 
request  and  direct  me  to  take  the  confession  of  the 
Lady  Prioress,  adding  that  he  would  remain  to  see  the 
gifts  safely  bestowed  in  the  Convent-sacristy ;  and  I 
therefore  followed  the  weeping  Nun  with  much  so- 
lemnity and  sorrow.  And  now  did  I  feel  all  mine  own 
spiritual  weakness  and  un worthiness,  and  lamented, 
with  unfeigned  humility,  that  my  learning  and  piety 
were  no  greater,  and  that  my  former  life  had  not 
better  fitted  me  for  the  duty  which  I  was  now  about 
to  perform ;  of  aiding,  by  my  ghostly  counsel,  one 
renowned  for  her  holiness,  in  the  very  moment  when 
she  was  called  unto  her  everlasting  home. 


THE    LAST    OF    THp:    PLANTAGENETS.  403 

On  passing  into  her  presence,  I  beheld  her  resting 
back  upon  a  little  couch,  for  so  great  were  the  pains 
of  her  disease,  that  for  many  days  she  had  been  unable 
to  lie  down  thereon  ;  yet  distressed  with  pain,  as  in 
truth  she  was,  she  uttered  no  voice  of  complaint,  so 
that  there  was  a  death-like  stillness  in  the  chamber, 
and  I  drew  in  my  breath  from  reverence.  The  light 
of  that  fair  day,  too,  was  also  shaded  therein  with  a 
fitting  gloom,  so  that  I  might  not  at  first  see  the  pale 
cheek  and  heavenly  look  of  the  dying  sufferer  ;  but  on 
advancing  unto  her  more  closely, — Saints  and  Angels ! 
— I   saw   that    she    was   the   Lady  Bride  Planta- 

GENET  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


A    SCENE    OF    PARTING     IN     THE    CHAMBER    OF    DEATH. 


Yet  do  I  live  ?  Oh  !  how  shall  I  sustain 

This  vast  unutterable  weight  of  woe  ? 
This  worse  than  hunger,  poverty,  or  pain. 

Or  all  the  complicated  ills  below  : 
She,  in  whose  life  my  hopes  were  treasured  all 

Is  gone ! — for  ever  fled  ! 
These  eyes,  these  tear-swoln  eyes,  beheld  her  fall ! 
Ah,  no  ! — she  lives  on  some  far-happier  shore, 
She  lives, — but,  cruel  thought,  she  lives  for  me  no  more  ! 

How  shall  I  e'er  forget  that  dreadful  hour. 
When  feeling  death's  resistless  power. 
My  hand  she  press'd  wet  with  lier  falling  tears, 
And  thus  in  faltering  accents  spake  her  fears  ! 

Shaw's  Monody. 


Oh  Memory  ! — IMemory  ! — I  ween  that  I  have  full 
little  cause  to  summon  thine  aid,  to  depict  the  scene 
which  was  now  about  to  open  unto  me  ;  for  so  deeply, 
yea,  so  indelibly,  are  all  the  events  of  that  most  sad 
hour  impressed  upon  my  soul,  that  they  can  never  be 
absent  from  me  whilst  breath  and  sense  be  left  unto 
my  mortal  frame  ! — And  if  aught  of  earthly  affection 
or  sorroAV  can  call  forth  the  tear  of  human  compas- 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  405 

sion  ;  or  if  there  be  indeed  a  chord  in  the  breasts  of 
others,  which,  like-tuned  unto  that  within  mine  own, 
will  respond  unto  the  like  touch, — then  may  my  feel- 
ings at  this  time  be  somewhat  conceived  of;  and  it 
will  in  sooth  be  deemed  that  I  underwent  no  common 
trial.  And  if,  perchance,  in  the  deep  sorrow  thereof, 
my  reason  or  devotion  bent  in  the  unequal  struggle,  I 
well  trust  that  He,  who  is  all  strength,  and  who 
knoweth  the  weakness  of  his  creatures,  did  both  pity 
and  forgive  it. 

In  mine  earlier  years  I  had  sometimes  beheld  young 
and  noble  beauty,  with  all  that  wondrous  rapture 
which  the  poets  have  affirmed  it  doth  ever  inspire ; 
and  in  the  countless  charms  of  dazzling  eyes,  shining 
hair,  the  white  ivory  gates  within  the  lips,  and  cheek 
of  fairest  rose-colour,  I  have  oft-times  thought  that  I 
looked  upon  all  the  richest  creations  of  Nature,  blend- 
ed in  a  most  rare  master-piece  And,  although  it  was 
not  my  fortune  to  be  mated  with  one  of  these  most  love- 
ly beings,  I  have  noted,  not  with  envy,  but  with  a  fer- 
vent, yet  secret,  desire  for  the  like  happiness, — that 
Woman  is,  unto  our  race,  the  sweetest  partner  in  joy, 
and  the  kindest  soother  in  sorrow.  For  her  smiles 
do  ever  throw  their  fair  and  beaming  light,  over  that 
which  had  else  been  most  mournful,  desolate,  or  void 
of  life  ;  and,  when  the  storm  of  sorrow  hath  passed 
away,  she  appeared  unto  me  like  the  bow  in  the 
brightening  sky,  the  living  security  of  God's  everlast- 
in<j  covenant  of  croodness  unto  man. — Yet  do  I  well 


406  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

deem,  that  not  all  the  blaze  of  beauty  in  it's  gayest 
and  most  blooming  hoiu',  did  ever  seem  unto  my 
view  so  rich  and  glorious,  as  did  the  calm,  though 
fading,  features  of  the  dying  Lady  Bride,  before  whom 
I  now  stood.  Albeit  her  cheek  was  full  pale  from 
sickness,  yet  all  that  pure  dignity  which  so  marked 
her  youth  still  remained  ;  with  which  were  sweetly 
pictured  suffering  fortitude,  resignation  unto  the  will 
of  God,  and  Christian  benevolence  unto  all  on  earth. 

This  unconquerable  yet  gentle  spirit  seemed  unto 
me  to  cast  the  semblance  of  an  unearthly  triumph 
over  the  scene  of  mortality :  and  so  much  did  she 
then  appear  above  the  common  weakness  of  our  na- 
ture, that  methought  she  might  well  have  said  for 
herself, — if  indeed  ever  child  of  earth  might  utter  the 
holy  Apostle's  exulting  speech, — "  Oh  Death  !  where 
is  thy  sting? — Oh  Grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 

When  I  approached  the  Prioress,  as  I  have  afore 
recounted,  with  much  amaze  and  a  tremulous  voice  I 
gave  unto  her  my  benediction  ;  but  as  one  of  the  Nuns 
was  then  engaged  in  ministering  a  medicine  unto  her, 
the  pause  gave  unto  me  time  to  regain  somewhat  of 
my  tranquillity.  To  one  who  had  been  so  long 
schooled  by  danger  ever  to  wear  a  cautious  guise 
unto  the  world,  and  had  been  taught  by  holier  wis- 
dom the  frailty  of  all  earthly  affections,  I  ween  that 
it  asked  but  brief  time  and  little  effort  to  assume  the 
semblance  of  calmness,  albeit  full  great  was  the  tu- 
mult of  mine  agitated  spirit  within.  For,  I  bethought 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  407 

me  that,  perchance,  she  might  have  no  memory  of  me 
now ;  so  that  I  should  lose  the  sweet  communion 
with  her  which  I  had  already  begun  to  hope  for  : 
and,  although  I  might  disclose  myself  in  the  secresy 
of  confession,  I  did  much  doubt  whether  it  would  not 
in  truth  be  profaning  her  purified  spirit  in  it's  flight 
towards  Heaven,  to  break  upon  it's  holy  repose  with 
aught  of  the  unquiet  passions  or  vain  desires  of  a 
mortal. 

But  notwithstanding  these  inward  struggles,  I  was 
outwardly  tranquil,  and  the  Lady  Bride  Mas  not  less 
so ;  albeit  speech  seemed  scarcely  wanting  to  make 
me  known  unto  her,  for  the  first  glance  which  she 
cast  upon  me,  though  it  was  but  for  a  moment,  de- 
clared full  surely  that  she  well  remembered  him  whom 
she  then  beheld.  Yet,  natheless,  her  look  had  much 
of  amazement,  doubt,  and  even  blame,  but  these  were 
soon  exchanged  for  her  wonted  gentleness,  and  her 
visage  again  returned  unto  it's  calm  sweetness  ;  for 
albeit  my  name  might  sound  familiar  to  her  ear,  yet 
did  she  much  marvel  to  see  me  in  that  garb  and  place. 
She  even  doubted  if  her  sense  served  her  truly,  and, 
when  convinced  that  she  really  beheld  me,  she  would 
have  reproved  my  coming  thus  as  an  artful  device ; 
but  anon  she  yielded  unto  the  words  of  truth,  and 
rejoiced  greatly  to  see  one  whom  she  had  so  long 
known,  like  herself  withdrawn  from  the  world  unto 
an  holy  retirement.  Howbeit  she  did  promptly  re- 
strain her  surprise  at  seeing  me,  and  gave  direction 


40H  THK    LAST    OP    THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

unto  her  handmaid,  with  the  Dixcreta',  or  attendant 
Nuns,  who  until  now  had  awaited  in  the  chamber, 
that  they  should  go  forth  awhile ;  for,  said  she,  "  I 
would  speak  with  this  holy  man  alone,  since  I  have 
much  to  impart  unto  him,  and  more  than  is  meet  to 
be  heard  by  others  than  himself.  Therefore  with- 
draw, my  daughters,  for  a  space,  yet  still  remain  so 
near  at  hand,  as  to  answer  upon  brief  summons." 

Hereupon  the  Sisters  withdrew,  and  I  was  left 
alone  with  the  Prioress;  the  which  when  she  saw, 
she  said  unto  me  in  a  faint,  yet  solemn,  voice,  "  Is 
this,  in  truth,  good  Richard,  God's  mercy  unto  his 
fainting  servant,  to  behold  thee  in  such  a  habit  and 
in  such  a  moment  ?  or  are  they  but  a  feigned  garb 
and  mission  wherein  thou  hast  come  hither,  again  to 
seek  speech  with  me,  having  learned  the  place  of  ray 
retreat  ?  Yet  forgive  me,  if,  for  a  moment,  I  seem  to 
doubt  thee  wrongfully." 

Unto  this  I  answered,  "  Never  believe  it.  Lady, 
that  I  could  become  so  profane  an  impostor ;  and,  in 
sooth,  I  have  certain  of  our  Monastery  with  me,  who 
can  well  testify  that  I  am  no  other  than  what  I  do 
seem :  and  that  I  have,  for  these  seven  years  past, 
been  one  of  that  Brotherhood  in  whose  habit  I  am 
now  clothed." 

"  This  is  indeed  great  and  holy  consolation  !"  here- 
upon exclaimed  the  Prioress,  her  eyes  glistening  with 
triumph  and  joy,  and  looking  fervently  upward  unto 
that    Heaven    whereto    she   herself    was     hastening. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  409 

"  These  are  truly  joyful  tidings,  Richard  ;  for  my  soul 
seeketh  to  be  glad  in  thy  salvation,  which  hath  here- 
tofore been  much  disquieted  by  misgivings  touching 
thy  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare  :  but  now  do  I 
trust,  that  in  good  hour  thou  wilt  follow  me,  unto 
that  blessed  land  where  I  hope  to  be  before  the  sun 
sets  on  earth,  and  where  the  rays  of  his  glory  do  never 
go  down 

The  Lady  Bride's  fervent  desires  after  my  soul's 
happiness,  and  her  solemn,  though  joyful  and  tri- 
umphant, look  unto  present  death,  called  forth  such 
a  sudden  flood  of  sweet  sorrow  within  my  bosom, 
that  it  altogether  unmanned  me  ;  and,  taking  her  thin 
white  hand,  I  cast  me  at  her  feet,  as  almost  worship- 
ing one  who  seemed  so  much  divine.  If  I  erred  here- 
in, it  was  unwittingly  and  without  intent,  for  in  truth 
I  beheld  nothing  earthly  in  her,  and  so  bowed  me 
unto  the  heavenly  reflection  in  her  visage.  I  thought, 
I  only  gazed  upon  the  departing  Saint;  and  if  the 
Church's  favour  be  bestowed  upon  those,  who  de- 
voutly journey  vmto  the  Shrines  of  the  glorified  ser- 
vants of  God,  it  seemeth  unto  me  that  my  sin  was 
only  in  (inlicipating  the  reverence  which  should  be 
hereafter  paid  unto  one,  who,  though  now  an  inhabit- 
ant of  earth,  was  so  soon  to  be  translated  unto  the 
skies.  Howbeit,  the  thought  of  her  speedy  death 
filled  my  soul  with  sadness,  and  I  ventured  to  say 
that,  peradventure,  it  might  not  yet  be  so  near  as  she 
deemed  it. 


I 


410  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

"  If  thou  desirest  my  happiness,  Richard,"  fervently 
I'esponded  the  dying  Prioress,  "  cause  me  not  to  think 
so  :  for  my  human  weakness  delights  it  with  the  l)e- 
lief  that,  as  this  is  the  Eve  of  St.  Martin,  when  I  was 
born  unto  this  world  of  sin,  and  when  I  was  professed 
and  consecrated  unto  a  religious  life,  so  it  shall  behold 
my  new  birth  into  the  world  of  glory  !" 

I  could  not  reply  hereunto,  from  my  sorrowful  ad- 
miration of  the  blessed  creature  upon  whom  I  gazed  ; 
who,  thereupon  calling  up  her  swiftly  -  declining 
strength,  thus  continued.  "  I  pray  thee,  kind  friend, 
rise,  since  it  is  not  for  the  Confessor  to  kneel  before 
his  penitent." 

"  Oh,  Lady  \"  returned  I,  "  believe  me  I  cannot 
refrain  therefrom,  since  it  is  unto  me  an  hour  of 
much  weakness,  and  this  lowly  posture  doth  best  de- 
clare the  fervour,  the  devotion,  and  the  sincerity  of 
mine  heart." 

"  Yet,  nevertheless,  rise  and  be  calm,  good  Rich- 
ard," answered  the  Prioress,  "  whilst  I  assay  to  speak 
unto  thee  a  while.  I  would  now  tell  thee  of  certain 
passages  of  my  life,  not,  indeed,  in  shrift,  because 
confessions  be  ever  best  given  vmto  Him  who  fashion- 
eth  the  heart,  and  who  alone  knoweth  the  sins  and 
secrets  thereof.  Unto  that  All- seeing  God,  therefore, 
have  I  already  often  declared  my  transgressions  with 
much  sorrow ;  and  tears,  bitter  tears,  have  been 
poured  over  the  remembrance  of  times  gone  by,  and 
the  avowal  of  feelings  which  it  were  sinful  to  che- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENKTS.  411 

rish. His  peace  at  length  came  down  upon  my 

penitent  spii-it ;  and  it  was  no  delusion^  seeing  that  it's 
influence  was  sweet  and  silent  as  the  summer-dews, 
and  did  indeed  passing  all  understanding. — And, 
therefore,  albeit  I  desired  to  see  a  Confessor,  I  have 
but  little  to  pour  into  the  bosom  of  the  Holy  Church  ; 
save  gratitude  that  the  lowly  plant,  which,  methinks, 
would  have  been  blighted  by  the  storms  of  the  world, 
hath  been  reared  and  protected  in  the  garden  of  God 
upon  earth  ;  and,  as  my  soul  trusteth,  made  fit  for 
blooming  still  more  fairly  in  His  Paradise  on  high." 

The  Prioress  paused  for  a  brief  space,  yet  could  I 
utter  nought  in  reply,  from  ainaze  at  the  wondrous 
grace  and  eloquence  which  seemed  poured  upon  her 
at  this  hour ;  and,  therefore,  it  was  without  speech 
of  mine  intervening,  that  she  again  continued  thus. 

"  Truly,  my  friend,  I  look  unto  that  immortal  rest 
with  much  hope  and  gladness  ;  for  licre,  as  thou  well 
knowest,  I  have  had  mine  hours  of  trial,  of  tempta- 
tion, and  even  of  suffering. — Yes,  He  who  guideth 
His  children  with  a  merciful  restraint,  hath  not  with- 
held from  me  those  tokens  of  His  adoption.  I  have 
in  truth  passed  through  seasons  of  earthly  weakness 
and  wanderings  of  thought,  which  woman's  heart  and 
tongue  would  never  acknowledge,  save  in  pi*ayer  or 
at  the  dying  hour.  And,  I  have  indeed  now  to  confess 
how  my  thoughts  have  been  ever  too  prone  to  stray 
unto  thee,  Plantagenet,  and  how  often  mine  heart  hath 
panted  to  know  thy  fate,  and  even  that  I  should  again 


412 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 


behold  thee. — This  iinhoped-for  blessing  is  now  given 
unto  me,  and  he  for  whom  I  too  often  sighed  with  a 
mortal's  passion,  is  happily  present  with  me  in  the 
hour  which  closes  all  my  human  sorrows,  to  behold 
how  earthly  love,  though  verily  strong  as  death,  can 
yet  be  conquered  by  heavenly  grace ;  and  as  a  true 
son  of  the  Holy  Church,  to  aid  me  with  his  ghostly 
counsels,  and  guide  my  spirit  in  it's  flight." 

"  Alas !  dearest  Lady  Bride,"  exclaimed  I  with 
tearful  voice,  "  Alas  !  I  am  all  unworthy  of  such  a 
part :  and  'tis  rather  my  sad  happiness  to  learn  of 
thee  how  a  Christian  should  die." 

"  Be  it  so,  then,  good  Plantagenet,"  answered  she ; 
"  and  right  glad  shall  I  be  to  point  out  the  happy 
road  which  thou  shalt  hereafter  travel :  for  I  have 
ever  prayed  that  thou  mightest  be  blessed  both  in  life 
and  death,  albeit  thy  fate  was  yet  unknown  unto  me  ; 
and,  perchance,  I  did  so  with  more  fervour  than  for 
aught  beside.  Now,  my  kindest  friend,  will  I  hide  it 
from  thee  no  longer,  since  we  are  about  to  part  for 
ever  upon  earth  ;  I  will  say  to  thee  that  I  have  loved 
thee  but  too  well,  from  our  meeting  at  Windsor  ;  and 
however  I  did  appear  to  sup])ress  mine  affections  un- 
der the  semblance  of  devotion  to  the  cloister,  God  and 
mine  own  soul  well  know  the  trial  which  I  endured, 
to  gain  even  that  seeming  victory,  whilst  thine  image 
remained  but  all  too  perfectly  in  mine  heart." 

The  Prioress  paused  hereat  from  increasing  weak- 
ness, yet  would  she  not  that  I  should  call  in  any  aid  ; 


THK    r^AST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENRTS.  413 

and,  therefoi-e,  after  remaining  silent  for  a  brief  space, 
she  again  called  up  her  sinking  strength,  and  then 
spake  thus,  with  wondrous  fervency. — "All  this, 
good  Richard,  was  but  blighted  vanity  ;  but  He  who 
wisely  withholdeth  any  unfit  desire  which  his  offspring 
conceive,  faileth  not,  like  a  kind  father,  more  largely 
and  excellently  to  requite  them  for  the  same.  It  was 
not  His  good  pleasure  that  our  lives  on  earth  should 
glide  away  together,  but  He  hath  given  us  a  far  better 
blessing,  inasmuch  as  He  ordained  that  both  should 
become  devoted  unto  His  service,  and  so  be  advanc- 
ing, as  it  were  side  by  side,  and  making  them  ready 
for  an  everlasting  union  in  the  world  to  come  !" 

Whilst  the  Lady  Bride  thus  spake,  her  life  seemed 
suddenly  to  kindle  up  within  her  so  brightly  and 
forcefully,  that  I  again  deemed  her,  for  a  moment,  to 
be  less  near  her  end  than  she  believed  :  but  too  soon 
I  saw  her  sinking  from  the  effort  which  she  had  made. 
Yet  even  in  her  very  decline  there  were  both  beauty 
and  dignity  ;  and  I  could  not  but  liken  her  to  some 
noble  temple,  consecrated  unto  God,  which,  though 
fallen  into  ruins  from  the  wasting  hand  of  Time,  or 
shaken  unto  it's  very  base  by  an  overwhelming  earth- 
quake, did  still  shew  both  fair  and  stately,  even  whilst 
it's  dome  was  trembling  and  it's  columns  fell. — After 
another  short  pause  the  Prioress  again  addressed  me, 
albeit  her  speech  was  often  broken  by  sad  swoonings 
which  might  not  be  restrained.  She  told  me  that, 
after  we  last  parted,  she  remained  but  short  space  at 


414  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGKNETS. 

Bermondsey,  and  then  was  suddenly  removed,  yet 
with  her  own  consent,  unto  the  Convent  at  Dartford, 
where  she  was  consecrated  a  Nun  on  the  return  of  her 
birth-day  ;  of  which  place  she  was  at  length  elected 
Prioress,  and  so  had  remained  until  the  day  whereon 
we  met. 

"  In  carefully  acquitting  me  of  the  duties  of  that 
holy  office,"  continued  she,  "  I  found  the  greatest  de- 
light which  my  wounded  spirit  might  know  :  for 
albeit  my  thoughts  would  often-times  wander  from 
this  hallowed  House,  yet  was  it  not  unto  a  world  of 
glittering  vanity,  nor  unto  scenes  of  heedless  laugh- 
ter or  tumultuous  joy, — but  vmto  one  beloved  fellow- 
creature,  whose  temporal  welfare  I  knew  was  in  much 
hazard,  and  whose  everlasting  safety  I  deemed  might 
also  be  unsecured.  At  length,  Richard,  I  heard  of  the 
fire  at  Sheen  Palace,  whither  it  had  been  told  me  that 
thou  wert  conveyed,  wherein  it  was  said  that  many 
of  the  inmates  were  destroyed,  and  I  did  long  deem 
that  thou  wert  one  of  them,  seeing  that  thy  life  was 
cared  for  by  none  ;  but  afterward  came  that  which  I 
thought  to  be  more  certain  tidings  of  thy  death,  when 
the  boat  which  carried  thee  unto  a  more  perilous  pri- 
son was  whelmed  at  London  Bridge,  and  all  on  board 
drowned,  even  thy  mantle  being  found  torn  and  float- 
ing on  the  water.  It  is  true  that  somewhat  whispered 
me  of  thy  possible  escape,  and  prudence  in  thus  cast- 
ing away  thine  habit ;  and,  tlierefore,  my  daily  prayers 
were  made  for   thee   whether  living  or   dead.     And 


THE    TvAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  41 T) 

this  day,  upon  hearing  thy  well-known  name,  the 
same  hope  told  me  that  it  might  indeed  be  thee  ;  yet 
did  I  not  dare  specially  to  summon  thee,  lest  mine 
earthly  love  should  triumph,  albeit  I  was  full  fain  to 
behold  thee  once  more,  and  to  conjure  thee  to  hasten 
after  me  on  the  road  to  blessedness  1" 

Having  thus  spoken,  with  many  interruptions  of 
extreme  weakness,  the  Prioress  sank  back  upon  her 
couch,  as  if  all  exhausted  of  living  strength  and  nigh 
unto  Death.  In  this  state  of  rapid  decay,  I  gazed 
upon  her  with  the  same  ravishment  at  her  fervent 
piety,  as  I  had  before  done  in  beholding  her  beauty. 
For  now  the  whole  course  of  her  thoughts  did  appear 
unto  me  so  truly  to  accord  with  those  which  Faith 
should  inspire  in  the  soul,  that  the  brightness  and 
tranquillity  of  her  passage  from  Time  unto  Eternity, 
the  beauty  of  her  departure  from  life  here  unto  im- 
mortality hereafter,  seemed  in  lively  picture  to  pour- 
tray  unto  my  mind,  how  the  holy  Patriarch  walked 
with  God  and  was  not ;  becoming  the  habitant  of 
Heaven,  yet  without  putting  off  his  earthly  form. 

But  albeit  the  strength  of  the  Lady  Bride  did  appear 
to  be  now  full  swiftly  going  from  her,  yet  would  she 
not  that  I  should  summon  her  handmaiden,  because, 
she  said,  she  had  yet  a  weighty  matter  to  disclose  unto 
me  ere  she  departed,  which  did  much  concern  both 
her  happiness  and  mine  :  whereupon  she  again  spake 
unto  me  thus,  when  she  had  tasted  of  a  cordial  and 
had  somewhat  recovered  her  spirit. 


416      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAOENETS. 

"  And  now,  my  kind  friend  Plantagenet,  having 
told  thee  of  mine  entrance  and  tranquil  life  in  this 
Convent,  I  must  add  thereunto  that,  albeit  I  thought 
it  a  full  holy  and  happy  place,  I  soon  learned  that, 
since  the  loss  of  Eden,  there  is  no  true  Paradise  to  be 
found  upon  earth.  After  I  was  elected  Prioress  here, 
it  became  my  sad  duty, — as  others  told  me,  and  as  I 
deemed  right, — to  enforce  the  rigors  of  our  Rule 
against  one  of  our  Sisterhood,  for  great  transgression 
against  the  Church  ;  she  being  accused  in  Chapter 
by  divers  of  the  Nuns,  of  an  unholy  attachment  unto 
the  heretic  writings  of  Wiclif.  And  so  resolute  was 
she  herein,  that  even  unto  her  last  sickness  Sister 
Maria  remained  unchanged,  though  still  pious  and 
happy ;  and,  at  length,  the  book  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment which  Wiclif  rendered  into  English,  was  found 
concealed  beneath  her  couch,  like  some  hidden  trea- 
sure. Whereupon  I  reproved  her  with  harshness,  al- 
beit, in  mine  ignorance,  with  a  real  abhorrence  of  the 
crime  whereof  she  was  guilty." 

'^  And  herein,"  answered  I,  "  did  you  piously  per- 
form your  duty,  and  but  enforced  the  Rule  of  which 
you  were  the  Superior." 

"Nay,  Richard,"  replied  the  Prioress,  most  sadly 
smiling  and  shaking  her  head,  "  hear  my  story  to  an 
end,  ere  you  deem  so. — The  offending  Sister  sank  be- 
neath the  rigorous  dealing  and  reproach  which  I  per- 
mitted to  be  used  towards  her  ;  but  albeit  I  was  less 
harsh  than  the  Chapter  and  our  Statutes  required  me 


THE    liAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS.  417 

to  be,  mine  heart  smote  me  heavily  at  the  moment 
it  was  told  me  that  her  life  had  fled :  nevertheless 
keener  sorrows  yet  remained  in  store  for  me. — The 
book  found  in  the  persecuted  Nun's  cell,  I  took  into 
mine  own  keeping,  to  examine  it  at  fitting  season  ;  but 
although  I  had  often  looked  upon  the  Gospels  in  St. 
Hierome's  Latin,  I  declare  unto  thee,  Plantagenet,  that 
when  I  set  me  to  read  them  in  our  own  tongue,  they 
came  so  suddenly  and  closely  home  unto  mine  heart 
and  conscience,  that  the  one  seemed  unto  me  like  hav- 
ing a  great  treasure  in  a  locked  casket,  and  the  other 
like  owning  it  in  free  and  full  possession. — Now  I  felt 
that  it  might  indeed  be  good  to  set  forth  the  Book  of 
Christ  in  the  common  speech,  so  that  all  who  run 
might  have  tlie  Word  of  Eternal  Life  ;  and  that  the 
way-faring  man,  though  a  fool,  might  read  of  his 
road  thither. — Upon  this,  therefore,  do  I  judge  that 
Sister  Maria  had  been  harshly  dealt  with  by  all  our 
House  ;  and  specially  by  me,  for  that  her  reviled  book 
had  opened  my  blinded  eyes,  and  hath  since  been  my 
solace  by  day  and  my  companion  in  the  night !" 

Hereupon  did  I  suddenly  start  back,  it  might  be 
a  pace  or  more,  at  hearing  one  so  fair  and  beloved  as 
the  Lady  Bride  Plantagenet,  and  of  such  exalted 
piety  as  the  Prioress  of  Dartford,  speak  in  favour  of 
translating  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  and  of  the  new 
doctrines  and  heresies  which  even  then  were  trium- 
phantly advancing.  IMine  emotion  was  not  hidden 
from    her   who  conversed  witli   me,   since   she    soon 

2  K 


418      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

marked  and    undei'stood  it,    and    answered    unto   it 
thus. 

"  Be  not  dismayed,  mine  ever  kind  friend  Planta- 
genet,  nor  deem  me  in  this  to  have  wandered  from 
the  path  of  Christian  Faith.  Rather  would  I  say,  do 
thou  also  read  the  Gospels  of  the  Evangelists  with 
the  Deeds  of  the  Apostles,  as  the  good  Preacher  of 
Lutterworth  hath  rendered  them  into  English,  than 
join  in  blaming  those  whose  happiness  it  hath  been 
thus  to  know  them. — Why,  Richard,  why,  I  pray 
you,  should  the  unbounded  light  of  Christ  be  in  any- 
wise concealed  or  shaded  unto  the  eyes  of  men?  or 
wherefore  should  we  hide  from  the  lowlier  children 
of  God,  the  Holy  Scriptures,  which  for  them,  as  well 
as  for  us,  do  in  truth  contain  the  words  of  eternal 
life?  —  Truly,  methinks  there  may  well  be  urged  in  this 
matter,  that  which  holy  Peter  of  old  answered  unto 
them  that  reproached  him,  saying,  '  If  God  gave  the 
same  grace  to  them,  as  to  us  that  believeden  in  the 
Lord  Jesu  Christ,  who  are  we  that  we  may  forbid  the 
Lord,  that  He  give  not  the  Holy  Ghost  to  them  that 
believeden  in  the  name  of  Jesu  Christ  ?'  " 

I  may  not  here  set  down  Avith  what  declining  life, 
frequent  pausings,  and  faint  speech,  the  Lady  Bride 
held  on  throughout  this  converse,  albeit  they  were  so 
piteous,  and  her  weakness  did  so  greatly  increase,  as 
to  move  me  to  entreat  of  her  not  to  discourse  farther 
at  that  season :  whereunto  she  replied,  that  the  mat- 
ter of  which  she  spake  seemed  charged  upon  lier  soul 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  419 

to  deliver  unto  me,  and  that  until  this  was  done, 
she  was  borne  up  by  a  strength  which  she  knew  well 
was  far  greater  than  her  own.  In  response,  there- 
fore, unto  her  former  words,  I  noted  unto  her  what 
divers  holy  and  venerable  men  have  said  upon  the 
sin,  as  they  deemed  it,  of  giving  the  Word  of  God 
in  the  common  speech. 

Whilst  I  spake  she  sighed  heavily,  and  replied, 
"  Such  I  do  well  know  hath  been  the  language  of 
many  wise  men  in  the  Church,  and  often  have  I 
blamed  mine  own  desire  herein ;  much  fearing  that, 
in  coveting  to  read  the  Holy  Book  in  English,  I  sinned 
like  Eve,  who  first  sought  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the 
forbidden  Tree  of  Knowledge.  Yet,  good  Richard, 
have  I  been  most  wondrously  refreshed  and  com- 
forted, by  the  close  union  which  was  thus  formed 
between  mine  own  soul  and  the  immortal  Word  of 
God ;  though  I  was  doomed  to  hide,  and  even  some- 
what to  discountenance,  that  which  in  my  secret 
heart  I  could  not  but  approve  as  most  excellent. 
And  for  such  as  desire  that  the  Gospel  shall  nei'er  be 
spread  abroad  in  the  common  tongue,  it  seemeth  unto 
me  that  they  follow  the  guileful  artifices  of  tlie  Hea- 
thens ;  whose  holiest  precepts  were  not  given  openly, 
to  make  mankind  virtuous  or  blessed,  but  veiled 
under  evil  rites,  and  confined  unto  their  cruel  and 
mysterious  priests." 

"Oh!  dearest  Lady  Bride,"  then  said  I,  "not  in 
this  most  solemn  liour,  let  voice    of  thine    sanction 


420  THK    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

these  mad  and  daring  novelties,  with  whicli  the  ad- 
versaries of  our  Holy  Church  are  even  now  striving 
to  overthroAv  it." 

"  Fear  not  for  me,"  answered  she,  as  her  voice  sank 
lower  and  her  eyes  again  closed,   "  Fear  not  for  me, 

— since  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed." Then, 

after  pausing  awhile,  the  Prioress  again  raised  herself, 
and  with  new  and  sudden  animation,  and  a  wondrous 
light  on  her  visage,  she  continued, — "  Thou  hast  well 
said,  Plantagenet,  it  is  indeed  a  solemn  hour  with  me, 
seeing  that  I  am  standing  between  life  and  death; 
and,  like  him  who  stood  upon  the  top  of  Pisgah, 
overlooking  both  the  wilderness  of  this  world  and 
much  of  the  glorious  Canaan  to  which  I  am  hasten- 
ing. And,  perchance,  this  solemn  hour,  giveth  even 
unto  mortal  creatures  somewhat  of  immortal  know- 
ledge ;  since  I  feel  it  written  upon  ray  soul,  that  the 
Lord  is  about  to  rise  and  mightily  to  refresh  the 
nations  with  his  presence !  That  a  great  overthrow 
is  coming  upon  the  corrupted  Clergy  of  this  realm ! 
That  many  of  our  superstitious  rites  shall  wane  and 
die  away,  in  the  plain  purities  of  the  advancing  Gos- 
pel ;  and  that  the  Translated  Word  shall  speedily  be 
spread  through  this  land,  from  the  throne  even  unto 
the  hovel !  for  Kings  shall  come  unto  the  brightness 
of  it's  rising. — I  depart  in  the  twilight  of  these  things, 
but  you  shall  behold  the  sun  rise ;  and  I  pray  that 
he  may  shine  forth  upon  you  with  healing  in  his 
wings !" 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  421 

As  the  dying  Prioress  spake,  I  stood  and  gazed 
upon  her  with  utter  amazement,  for  unto  me  she 
seemed  like  some  holy  Prophetess,  in  tlie  very  mo- 
ment when  unmeasurable  inspiration  was  poured  into 
her  soul :  I  spake  not,  from  wonder  at  the  power  and 
eloquence  of  her  speech,  and  I  almost  doubted  to 
breathe,  lest  I  should  interrupt  her  wondrous  dis- 
course. 

Howbeit,  her  strength  was  now  alnu)st  spent,  and  it 
was  in  a  fainter  and  more  broken  voice  that  she  said, 
"  Truly,  Plantagenet,  even  in  this  last  hour  of  mine 
existence,  I  cannot  but  feel  a  full  strong  assurance, 
that  to  make  the  Word  of  Truth  plainly  and  widely 
known,  is  to  spread  the  power  and  realm  of  the  IMost 
High  ;  whilst  to  keep  it  in  an  unspoken  tongue  is  to 
bury  the  Eternal  Jewel  of  Mankind.  For,  I  beseech 
you,  are  all  unlettered  men  to  perish  because  they 
wist  not  the  speech  of  heathen  Rome  ;  or  why  should 
our  land  be  the  lowest  of  Christendom,  in  that  it  hath 
7iot  the  Scriptures,  the  Law  of  God  and  our  Faith, 
in  it's  own  language }  Oh,  Richard  !  Richard ! — 
friend  of  the  friendless  Bride  Plantagenet, — who  art 
the  dearest  object  in  my  closing  eyes,  believe  me 
when  I  say,  that  I  desire  nothing  better  for  thee  than 
well  to  know  and  revere  this  most  Holy  Book  in  our 
own  tongue. — Alas  !  Plantagenet,  my  death  is  so  far 
like  that  of  my  beloved  mother  in  Bermondsey 
Abbey,  that  I  may  well  say,  as  she  did  in  her  will, 
I  have  no  worldly  goods  to  do  any  a   pleasure  with, 


422  THE    liAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

nor  to  reward  any  according  to  mine  heart  and  mind. 
— Yet  unto  thee,  most  dear  friend,  do  I  give  this 
book  of  the  English  New  Testament,  by  the  learned 
and  holy  Wiclif,  for  such  I  dare  well  think  him  to 
have  been ;  and  this  little  tome  of  Offices,  which 
thou  gavest  me  at  our  last  parting,  and  which  hath 
never  left  me  since  that  hour.  I  can  well  think  that 
thou  hast  preserved  my  ring,  if  it  have  not  been  rent 
from  thee ;  and  so  I  ween  that  I  shall  not  be  alto- 
gether forgotten  by  thee." 

As  she  gave  the  books  into  mine  hands  and  spake 
these  words,  my  spirit  was  again  suddenly  melted 
within  me,  and  I  said,  "  Forgotten  !  Oh  !  dearest 
Lady  Bride,  when  thou  art  forgotten,  Richard  Plan- 
tagenet  will  have  neither  power  of  memory  nor  aught 
to  remember." 

"  These  confessions  being  past,  then,"  resumed  the 
Prioress,  "  my  soul  is  full  of  blessed  expectancy  and 
ready  to  be  gone  ;  having  now  nought  to  sorrow  or 
to  hope  for,  saving  that  I  yet  lament  mine  harshness, 
or  that  of  mine  office,  unto  one  whose  feelings  I  do 
gladly  partake  of." 

It  was  my  great  desire,  however  much  mine  heart 
should  be  disquieted  by  the  sorrows  of  the  hour, 
to  keep  my  spirit  yet  tranquil  and  unshaken  ;  but 
now  my  tears  flowed  in  despite  of  all  mine  efforts  to 
restrain  them,  and,  moreover,  my  soul  was  in  great 
dread  from  the  peril  which  I  feared  might  await  tlie 
Lady  Bride,  from   her  holding  what   I  then  deemed 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  423 

most  hazardous  and  evil  doctrines.  Yet  even  whilst 
I  did  what  was  in  me  to  recall  her  therefrom  into  the 
bosom  of  the  Church,  I  much  wondered  at  the  more 
than  human  courage,  with  which  she  had  prepared  to 
encounter  the  Last  Enemy.  For,  all  throughout 
mine  interview  with  her,  even  unto  her  death,  a 
heavenly  hope  seemed  to  flourish  healthfully  and  vi- 
gorously upon  her  countenance;  even  as  I  have  seen 
some  fair  and  fallen  column,  wreathed  around  with 
sweet  flowers  and  green  moss,  and  blooming  with  all 
the  fresh  and  living  verdure  of  the  Spring. 

But  now  the  hour  had  arrived,  when  she  was  to 
render  up  her  spirit  unto  the  God  who  gave  it,  since 
she  faintly  said,  "  I  can  no  more,  Richard ;  give  me 
thine  absolution  and  benediction, — for  the  moment 
hath  now  arrived  when  we  must  part  for  the  last 
time ; — and,  may  He,  whom  I  implore  mercifully  to 
receive  his  returning  creature, — cause  His  best  bles- 
sing eternally  to  descend  upon  thee, — my  Brother 
— and  my  friend — bringing  thee  in  His  own  good 
hour,  into  His  purified  fold  ! — and  forget  not — that 
I  wait  for  thee  in  glory. — Call  in  the  Sisters,  Planta- 
genet, — and  Fare  thee — well !"  And  as  I  sorrowfully 
turned  me  from  her,  I  heard  her  add  in  a  low  fervent 
voice,  "  Lord  have  mind  of  me,  now  Thou  art  in  Thy 
Kingdom." 

Thereupon  hastily  entered  the  Nuns,  with  certain 
others  to  give  her  the  Viaticum  and  Extreme  Unc- 
tion, but  she  was  now  so  weak  that  they  could  do  no 


424  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

more  than  support  her,  yet  did  her  dying  eyes  beam 
upon  me  with  love  unutterable.  It  was  now  sun-set, 
and  at  that  moment  was  heard  the  swell  of  the  organ 
from  the  Chapel,  where  even-song  was  being  per- 
formed ;  and  then  followed  the  choral  voices  of  those 
Sisters,  who  owed  their  advancement  in  piety  unto 
her  most  religious  care  and  holy  pattern.  I  ween 
that  all  who  heard  those  strains,  felt  them  to  be  full 
fitting  for  the  departure  of  one  so  blessed  into  the 
World  of  Spirits  ;  and  I  ween  that  the  Lady  Bride 
thought  so  herself,  for  when  tlw;  Niitic  Dimittis  was 
heard,  she  strove  to  raise  herself,  and  spake  somewhat 
in  a  voice  that  might  not  be  understood.  The  Nuns 
declared  it  to  be  the  Latin  words  of  the  holy  Simeon's 
hymn,  but  I  rather  trow  that  they  were  those  from 
Wiclif's  Translation  of  St.  Luke's  Gospel,  seeing  that 
they  did  refer  both  unto  her  readiness  to  die,  and 
unto  the  rising  light  which  she  had  found  for  herself, 
and  expected  for  others,  in  the  blessings  of  the  Ti-ans- 
lated  Gospel. 

"  Lord,  now  leevest  Thou  Thy  servant  in 
PEACE.  For  mine  eyen  han  seyn  Thine  health  : 
Which  Thou  hast  made  ready  before  the  face 
of  all  people  ;  Light  to  the  shewing  of  hea- 
then  MEN,    and    glory   OF    ThY   PEOPLE    IsRAEL  !" 

Such,  I  do  well  believe,  were  the  dying  words  of 
the  Lady  Bride  Plantagenet,  upon  ending  the  which, 
she  languidly  bent  her  head  as  if  in  a  last  farewell ; 
whereupon  one  of  the  Nuns  signed  unto  me  to  with- 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS.  425 

clraw,  and  so  I  turned  me  from  that  scene  of  triumph, 
though  of  ahnost  more  than  mortal  suffering,  and  from 
the  face  and  form  I  had  so  long  loved  to  look  upon. 

I  have  so  often  mused  over  the  passages  which  I 
have  now  recounted,  that  they  are  all  impressed  upon 
my  memory  with  wondrous  exactness  and  power ;  yet 
is  there  one  thing,  which   I   may   not  omit  to  note, 
whereof  I  know  not  what  to  say,  whether  in  truth  it 
really  chanced,   or  whether  it  were  biit  a   dream  of 
phantasy,  either  at  the  very  time,   or  even  in  after 
years.     Howbeit,  whatever  it  were,  this  is  the  sum 
thereof. — When  I  turned  to  depart  from  the  Prioress, 
I  gave  her  my  last  adieu  and  benediction ;  which  she 
had  no  power  to  answer  but  by  a  weak  motion  of  her 
head :  but  as  I  was  leaving  the  chamber,  methought 
I  again  heard  her  well-known  and  beloved  voice  say- 
ing, "  Farewell,  Richard  ! — Farewell,   Plantagenet !" 
in   it's  saddest  and  sweetest  tones.       I  started  with 
amaze  at  hearing  her  so  accost  me  before  strangers, 
and  hastily  turned  me  again,  but  in  doing  so  mine 
eyes  chanced  to  fall  upon  the  casement,  whereat  me- 
thought I  heard  the  soft  fluttering  of  wings,  and  I 
beheld  a  Dove,  more  lustrous  and  silvery  white  than 
any  which  I  ever  saw  upon  earth,  suddenly  fly  there- 
from into  the  brightest  part  of  the  heavens  where  tlie 
sun  was  sinking,  and  so  disappear  ! — In  truth  I  dare 
not  aflirm,  that  it  was  the  Lady  Bride's  beatified  soul 
which  I  did  thus  see  and  hear;  yet  is  it  certain  that 
she  died  at  the  very  moment  thereof,  as  I  knew  from 


426  THK    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

the  sudden  cry  of  the  Sisters,  though  I  continued 
gazing  upon  that  wondrous  vision,  until  they  recalled 
me  by  noting  the  intentness  wherewith  I  was  looking 
upon  that,  which  appeared  to  them  but  as  an  empty 
space ! 

I  then  turned  me  once  more  unto  the  couch  of  the 
departed  Prioress,  to  behold  her  dear  countenance  for 
the  last  time;  wherein  I  saw  there  was  but  little 
change  from  dying.  For  the  brightness  of  unshaken 
Faith  and  unspotted  virtue  were  upon  it,  which  made 
her  last  moments  wondrously  radiant;  even  as  the 
sun  never  looketh  more  glorious,  than  when  his  part- 
ing rays  are  cast  upward  unto  the  mountain's  summit, 
as  he  sinketh  to  his  rest  upon  the  glowing  bosom  of 
the  western  wave. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    recluse's    LAST    SORROWS    AND    TRIALS THE 

DISSOLUTION    OF    RELIGIOUS    HOUSES. 


He  who  hath  bent  him  o'er  the  dead 
Ere  the  first  day  of  Death  is  fled,— 
Before  Decay's  effacing  fingers 
Have  swept  the  lines  where  beauty  lingers. 
And  raark'd  the  mild  angelic  air. 
The  rapture  of  repose  that's  there, 
The  fix'd,  yet  tender,  tints  that  streak 
The  languor  of  the  placid  cheek, 
And — but  for  that  sad  shrouded  eye. 

That  fires  not,  wins  not,  weeps  not,  now. 
And,  but  for  that  chill  changeless  brow  ; 
Where  cold  Obstruction's  apathy 
Appals  the  gazing  mourner's  heart, — 

Yes, — but  for  these,  and  ttiese  alone, 
Some  moments,  aye  one  treacherous  hour 
He  still  might  doubt  the  Tyrant's  jjower  ; 
So  fair,  so  calm,  so  softly  seal'd, 
The  first,  last,  look  by  Death  reveal'd. 


Lord  Uvhd.v. 


And  there  shall  come  a  King  and  confesse  your  Religions, 

And  bete  you,  as  the  Bible  telleth,  for  breaking  of  your  Rule. 

And  amende  Moniales,  Monkcs,  and  Chanoines  ;— 

And  then  shall  the  Abbot  of  llngland,  and  all  his  issue  for  ever. 

Have  a  knocke  of  a  Kino,  and  incurable  shall  be  the  wounde  ! 

Prophecy  in  the  Vision  ok  Pierce  Ploughman. 

It  is  lull  sad  and  sweet  to  look  upon  the  mortal  re- 
mains, of  one  whom  in  lite  wc  were  Avont  to  admire 


428  THK    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

and  to  love :  it  is  full  sad  to  think  how  that  counte- 
nance, which  was  of  late  so  rich  in  beauty  and  lively 
emotion,  and  how  those  eyes  which  glistened  so  lus- 
trously, and  the  tongue  which  could  discourse  with 
highest  wisdom  or  with  holiest  eloquence, — have  all 
become  the  prey  of  Death,  and  are  for  ever  dark,  mo- 
tionless, and  mute.  Yet,  I  ween,  that  amidst  all  the 
kindly  lamentations  which  sorrow  wakeneth  at  such  a 
moment,  it  is  also  full  soothing  to  mark  the  quiet  rest, 
which  the  happily-parted  dead  do  seem  already  to 
partake  of;  even  in  the  brief  space  ere  we  note  that 
the  loathly  work  of  decay  is  advancing,  or  the  worm 
beginneth  to  revel  upon  the  charms  of  his  fallen  victim. 
All  this  did  I  feel,  full  sadly  and  truly,  at  that  so- 
lemn hour,  when  it  was  mine  to  gaze  upon  the  lifeless 
form  and  visage  of  the  departed  Lady  Bride.  But 
though  I  did  much  lament  me  that  one  so  pious,  and 
noble,  and  beauteous,  should  fall  thus  early  into  the 
sepulchre  ;  yet  could  I  not  look  upon  that  which  she 
liad  left  of  her  mortality,  without  thinking  that  she 
had  but  the  sooner  retreated  unto  an  holy  and  blessed 
rest;  and  that,  with  such  hopes  as  her's,  it  was,  in 
truth,  happiness  thus  speedily  to  have  crossed  over  the 
troubled  sea  of  life,  and  to  have  gained  the  eternal 
shores  of  the  world  beyond  it. — And  I  do  well  trust 
that  God  can  bear  me  witness,  that  my  pious  and 
hopeful  musings  at  this  time,  have  not  in  any  sort  been 
altered  by  aught  which  hath  since  chanced ;  albeit  I 
once  thought  that  it   would  have  been  happy  for  me 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  429 

had  I  also  arrived  at  mine  appointed  resting-place, 
ere  I  had  counted  another  year  beyond  the  Lady 
Brides  death :  yet  can  I  now  well  see  the  vanity  and 
folly  of  my  wish  ;  that  length  of  days,  sorrowful  as 
many  of  them  have  proved,  hath  been  given  unto  me 
for  a  purpose  of  good  ;  and  that  it  is  not  for  the  vessel 
of  clay  to  strive  with  him  who  frameth  it,  nor  for  man 
to  question  the  decree  of  his  IMaker : — in  brief,  what- 
ever may  be  his  yearnings  after  his  immortal  change, 
that  he  should  patiently  finish  his  appointed  day,  say- 
ing, "Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be  done  !" 

I  will  not  now  recount  aught  of  the  last  rites 
which  were  rendered  unto  the  departed  Prioress,  al- 
beit until  the  tomb  was  closed  over  her  I  lingered  at 
the  Convent  with  my  fellows,  and  even  took  a  melan- 
choly part  in  singing  for  her  the  IMass  for  the  Dead, 
and  seeing  her  most  honourably  interred  in  the  Cha- 
pel. I  was  in  truth  a  most  sorrowful  mourner,  for  I 
did  ever  greatly  desire  to  descend  with  her  unto  the 
tomb ;  being  full  sad,  and  even  dismayed,  when  I 
bethought  me  how  long  the  years  might  be  which 
should  pass  away  before  that  we  should  meet  again. 

Yet  until  the  day  when  the  Lady  Bride  thus  became 
numbered  with  the  dead,  I  was,  in  truth,  less  weaned 
from  the  vain  hopes  of  this  world  than  might  become 
one  of  the  holy  life  whereunto  I  had  professed  my- 
self; since,  albeit  I  had  much  desired  to  put  them 
from  my  thoughts,  yet  in  despite  of  me  they  would 
ever    and    anon    turn   unto   her,    whose    sway    over 


430  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

mine  lieart  had  ahvay  been  most  wondrous.     Waking 
dreams,   moreover,  were   wont   to  spring   up  in  my 
mind,  as  it  were  in   very  mockery  of  my  better  rea- 
son, and  featly  to  shadow  forth  what  strange  chances 
might  arise  to  restore  me  unto  the  world,  raise  me 
unto    loftiest    rank   and    power, — perchance    imto  a 
throne, — and,    more  than   all,   give  the  Lady   Bride 
unto  my  love.     Nevertheless,  much  did   I  strive  to 
overcome  these  lurking   visions  of  vanity,  although 
mine  efforts  were  not  seldom  in  vain  ;  and  mortal  affec- 
tions too  often  withdrew  my  thoughts  and  desires  from 
Heaven. — But  now  a  sudden  and  a  solemn  change  had 
passed  over  the  fashion  of  my  life,  and  the  dearest 
object  of  my  fondest  and  wildest  wishes  was  with- 
drawn for  ever ;  so  that  for  me  the  whole   world   no 
longer  possessed  aught,  which  might  interrupt  medi- 
tations more  befitting  unto   my  profession  and  cha- 
racter.    Mortality  and  vanity  had  been   stamped  in 
fearful  characters  upon  all  I  held  noblest,  or  sweetest, 
or  loveliest;  and  I  was  now  no  longer  to  be  allured 
by  the  fairest  prospects  of  fame,  or  joy,  or  riches,  which 
the  earth  might  offer. 

After  our  return  unto  Walsingham,  my  life  passed 
like  the  still  and  silent  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea,  in  a 
sad,  yet  peaceful,  course  of  unchanging  religious 
offices  and  duties,  the  which  I  had  neither  desire  nor 
temptation  to  break  ;  so  that  days,  and  months,  and 
years  rolled  by  me  almost  unknown.  Nevertheless,  I 
failed  not  to  mark  the  return  of  the  day  when  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  431 

Lady  Bride  was  born  and  became  beatified,  by  a  yearly 
pilgrimage  unto  her  tomb,  and  offering  my  most  fer- 
vent prayers  for  her  soul's  health.  At  these  seasons, 
moreover,  I  did  rejoice  that,  by  their  succession,  they 
did  ever  advance  me  nearer  and  nearer  unto  Eternity, 
which  I  deemed  could  alone  fill  up  the  desolate  void 
within  my  soul : — that  Eternity,  which,  however  fear- 
ful it  seemeth  unto  mortals  in  their  lusty  youth,  the 
fiiint  and  worn-out  traveller  full  greatly  desireth  to 
reach,  as  a  refuge  and  a  home. 

I  trow  well,  moreover,  that  the  tidings,  which  from 
time  to  time  I  heard  of  the  world,  were  not  such  as 
to  make  me  greatly  desire  that  my  stay  herein  should 
be  prolonged  ;  since  in  truth  I  weened  that  the  last 
days  were  now  come,  as  foretold  by  the  holy  'Postles, 
Peter  and  Powle,  wherein  scoffers  should  appear 
walking  after  their  own  lusts.  At  this  time  began 
many  to  mock  at  the  Faith  of  the  Church  of  Rome, 
from  the  questioning  about  the  Pope's  Indulgences, 
begun  by  that  learned  and  ardent  young  doctor,  Mar- 
tin Luther,  in  the  Church  of  Wittemburg  in  Almaine, 
on  the  31st  day  of  October  in  the  year  1517:  for  al- 
beit divers  Papal  Constitutions  had  openly  condemned 
the  shameless  sale  of  those  remissions  from  the  earthly 
penalties  of  sin,  which  the  Pontiffs  were  wont  to 
grant  unto  such  as  confessed  them,  and  joined  in  the 
Crusades,  or  gave  money  thereunto,  or  did  any  acts  of 
Christian  charity  ; — yet  had  those  decrees  been  too 
often  disregarded,  and  Indulgences  were  not  seldom 


432  THE    LAST   OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

made  the  means  of  gathering  ungodly  lucre,  for  the 
fostering  of  covetise,  or  of  aiding  unlawful  ambition 
and  desire  of  rule.  In  especial,  they  were  at  this 
;  time  published  and  sold  in  Poland  and  France,  and 
the  Northern  parts  of  Germany,  to  aid  in  the  building 
of  that  most  gorgeous  Church  of  St.  Peter  at  Rome, 
the  which,  though  it  is  now  full  thirty-five  years  since 
it  was  begun,  is  not  yet  brought  unto  perfection. 
Howbeit,  for  the  gathering  of  these  monies  in  Almaine, 
the  Pope's  Indulgences  were  offered  not  only  in  ser- 
mons from  the  pulpits,  but  were  also  sold  in  streets 
and  markets,  taverns  and  pi'ivate  houses ;  whilst  it 
was  affirmed  that  all  who  bought  them,  profligate  as 
they  might  be,  did  either  open  the  gate  of  Heaven 
for  themselves,  or  forthwith  released  a  departed  soul 
from  the  pains  of  purgatory.  If  this  w^ere  true,  it 
was  indeed  foul  and  daring  impiety,  to  think  that 
any  mortal  should  have  power  to  buy  off  the  rigliteovis 
sentence  of  an  incorruptible  and  eternal  Judge ;  yet 
some  men  do  say  that  it  was  not  so,  but  that  Luther's 
preaching  against  the  same,  arose  out  of  the  counsels 
of  one  Staupitz,  Vicar  of  the  Austin-Friars,  and  the 
jealousy  which  Avas  between  that  Order  and  the  Do- 
minicans. Howbeit,  whatever  it  Avere,  now  began 
that  reformation  in  the  Christian  Church,  which,  I 
question  not  that  He,  who  bringeth  good  out  of  evil, 
and  light  out  of  darkness,  and  who  maketh  even  the 
wrath  of  man  to  praise  Him, — will  at  length  work 
out  and  establish  unto  His  own  glory. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  433 

I  Avill  not  here  relate  more  of  the  hazardous,  though 
triumphant,  march  and  labours  of  Luther,  to  bring 
about  this  mighty  work,  nor  how  he  went  on  from  ques- 
tioning the  Pope's  Indulgences  to  doubtof  his  doctrines, 
and  thence  to  the  unlearned  and  vicious  lives  of  the 
Clergy  ;  the  which  were  but  all  too  well  known,  both 
in  our  own  realm  and  in  the  country  of  Almaine. 
And  indeed  the  increase  aTid  fatal  end,  of  the  igno- 
rance and  evil  deeds  of  our  English  IMonks,  had  full 
long  since  been  foretold  ;  and  it  was  mine  to  see  their 
overthrow  fulfilled,  and  even  in  some  degree  to  par- 
take thereof.  For  the  Venerable  Bede  wondrously 
spake  of  it,  full  800  years  before  it  came  to  pass,  in 
his  pious  and  learned  letter  on  the  state  of  the  Church 
in  his  days;*  and  the  wise,  yet  biting  verses,  of  that 


•  This  Epistle  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  very  last  of 
Bede's  writings,  and  was  probably  composed  in  A-  D.  735.  It 
is  particularly  remarkable  for  advising  the  suppression  of  some 
of  the  English  Religious  Houses  for  the  establishment  and 
support  of  new  Bishoprics,  as  being  more  beneficial  to  the 
Church  :  and  because  many  of  the  former  institutions  fell  iar 
short  of  their  rules,  whilst  others  were  serviceable  to  neither 
God  nor  the  Commonwealth  ;  the  exercises  of  piety  and  disci- 
pline not  being  j)ractised  in  them,  nor  their  estates  held  by  such 
as  would  defend  the  country.  Part  of  the  prophecy  from  the 
Visions  of  Pierce  Ploughman  above  referred  to,  will  be  found 
prefixed  to  the  present  chapter ;  this  remarkable  passage  is 
contained  in  the  Sixth  division  of  the  poem,  and  is  inserted  in 
manuscripts  which  are  older  than  the  year  1  tOO.     Dr.  Whit- 

2    F 


434      THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

shrewd  Priest,  Robert  Langlande,  in  his  book  of  the 
Visions  of  Pierce  Plotihman,  noted  the  same  in  such  full 
and  plain  words,  that  men  might  well  deem  that  they 
were  written  after  the  act  was  done,  were  not  certain 
copies  yet  to  be  seen  with  his  prophecy  to  be  found 
therein.  There  were  divers  others,  too,  who  foresaw 
this  overthroAv  ere  it  came,  of  the  which  I  speak  not  now, 
saving  to  note  the  wondrous  revelation  thereof,  which 
was  poured  upon  the  dying  eyes  of  the  Lady  Bride 
Plantagenet,  as  I  have  already  recounted  the  same. 

Nevertheless,  all  men  do  well  know,  that  it  was  not 
presently,  nor  for  almost  twenty  years,  after  Luther's 
preaching,  that  the  Pope's  power  and  the  IMonks  were 
overthrown  in  this  realm ;  for  Henry  in  his  youth 
was  well-seen  in  Divinity,  and  wrote  much  against 
the  new  doctrines ;  whereupon  the   Pontiif  in   1524 


taker,  in  his  edition  of  that  most  extraordinary  composition 
from  a  contemporary  manuscript,  gives  the  passage  somewhat 
different,  though  equally  full,  but  he  considers  it  as  no  other 
than  a  happy  conjecture.  These  Visions  are  ascertained  to 
have  been  wi'itten  aftei*,  or  during,  the  ye^v  13(32,  and  though 
they  are  generally  attributed  to  Robert  Langlande,  it  is 
thought  that  the  best  MSS.,  as  well  as  some  passages  in  the 
poem  itself,  state  the  Author's  name  to  have  been  William. 
It  was  first  printed  in  1550.  Pierce  the  Ploughman's  Crede, 
which  has  been  cited  in  a  former  part  of  this  volume,  is  an 
imitation  of  the  Visions,  though  b}'  a  different  hand,  and  was 
written  after  the  death  of  Wiclif  in  1381.  It  was  first  printed 
in  1553. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  435 

gave  xmto  him  the  lofty  title  of  Defender  of  the  Faith. 
But  some  seven  years  thereafter^  when  he  first  began 
to  desire  a  new  consort,  and  to  question  the  la\^fulness 
of  his  marriage  with  the  good  Queen  Catherine,  then 
might  all  men  see  that  the  storm  was  hastening  on. 
First  fell  the  great  and  wise  Cardinal  Wolsey,  then 
followed  the  King's  divorce,  and  anon,  to  the  fearful 
amaze  of  all  who  yet  owned  the  Pope's  authority, 
Henry  was  declared  Supreme  Head  of  the  Church ; 
rashly,  as  I  then  thought,  attacking  the  Vicegerent  of 
Heaven,  and  setting  at  nought  his  holy  power  derived 
from  St.  Peter,  through  a  long  line  of  Pontiffs  v.ho 
had  gloriously  ruled  over  the  Christian  world.  They 
who  adhered  unto  him  and  the  Faith  he  taught,  and 
denied  the  civil  power  of  the  Parliament  to  give  unto 
Henry  a  spii-itual  sovereignty,  then  became  meet  ob- 
jects of  persecution,  and  divers  fell  victims  thereunto  ; 
especially,  as  I  remember  me,  the  three  Carthusian 
Priors  of  London,  Axiholm,  and  Belteval,  with  certain 
others,  in  the  year  1535  :  the  which  were  full  soon  fol- 
lowed by  the  wise  and  good  Doctor  John  Fisher, 
Bishop  of  Rochester,  and  the  late  High-Chancellorj> 
the  very  witty  and  learned  Sir  Thomas  More. 

The  tempest  which  we  looked  for  did  now  soon 
burst,  and  descend  upon  the  Religious  Houses  of  the 
realm,  as  being  the  peculiar  subjects  of  the  Bishop  of 
Rome :  for  when  the  Pope  excommunicated  Henry, 
the  dissolution  of  ^Monasteries  was  forthwith  resolved 
on,  and  their  general  Visitation  began  by  divers  Com- 


436  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENKTS. 

missioners,  appointed  by  the  Lord  Cromwell,  the 
King's  Vicar-generaivi.  Yet  unto  sucli  as  foresaw  not 
the  endof  this  device,  it  seemed  rather  the  support  or 
amendmetit,  than  the  ahoUlion,  of  ^Monasteries  whicli 
was  now  sought;  for  the  instructions  of  the  said 
Visitors  were  little  different,  from  those  which  have 
ever  been  set  forth  by  Bishops  or  Papal  Legates  in 
their  wonted  Visitations.  But  the  Commissioners, 
I  trow,  were  also  commanded  first  to  go  unto  the 
lesser  Religious  Houses,  and  exhort  the  inmates 
thereof  presently  to  yield  them  unto  the  King ;  upon 
failure  of  which,  they  were  to  seek  occasion  for  their 
sudden  suppression  by  enquiring  into  their  misdeeds. 
Howbeit,  at  this  time  only  seven  Houses  resigned ; 
and  it  was  shewn  that  most  of  the  evil  charged  upon 
the  Monks,  was  to  be  found  in  the  smaller  Brother- 
hoods and  Convents  only. 

So  was  the  work  of  destruction  begun,  but  in 
March  in  the  next  year,  namely,  1536,  the  King  de- 
vised a  speedier  means  of  proceeding  against  them ; 
for  a  Bill  was  suddenly  sent  unto  the  Parliament,  that 
all  Monasteries  which  owned  not  two  hundred  pounds 
in  a  clear  yearly  value,  should  be  given  unto  the  King. 
But  this  Bill,  as  Henry  thought,  stuck  too  long  with 
the  Commons  ;  wherefore  he  sent  for  certain  of  them, 
and  told  them  that  he  would  have  some  of  their  heads, 
unless  it  were  enacted  forthwith,  and  so  it  was  sud- 
denly done.  Commissioners  were  thereupon  sent  unto 
all  such  Houses,  briefly  to  declare  their  dissolution,  to 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGEN  ETS.  437 

make  an  inventory  of  their  goods,  to  seize  upon  their 
seals  and  charters,  and  to  dispose  of  the  societies :  al- 
though, as  the  aforesaid  Bill  left  the  King  free  to  re- 
found  those  Houses,  each  one  hoped  to  escape  from 
utter  destruction,  by  gifts  or  pensions  made  unto  the 
Vicar-General  and  his  deputies,  to  buy  their  favour 
and  secure  tlieir  own  safety;  by  the  which  means, 
many  were  for  a  brief  space  respited  or  new-founded. 

Howbeit  this  Act,  after  all,  touched  not  the  greater 
3Ionasteries,  nor  the  Abbey  of  Walsingham  ;  yet  our 
House  well  devised  what  would  succeed,  since  this 
provision  was  like  a  small  broche  wherewith  men 
make  a  little  hole,  to  put  in  afterwards  a  larger  auger. 
And  even  as  we  expected,  so  did  it  soon  follow;  for 
the  dissolution  of  the  smaller  Monasteries  havinar 
brought  on  a  notable  insurrection  on  their  behalf  in 
the  Northern  Counties,  by  divers  of  the  commonalty 
who  missed  their  alms  and  other  charities, — certain 
of  the  greater  Religious  Houses  were  charged  with 
aiding  and  abetting  the  same,  and  so  it  was  resolved 
at  once  to  suppress  them. 

These  were  some  of  the  public  passages  of  this 
most  disquiet  time,  but  now  come  I  to  note  mine  own 
particular,  and  hapless,  concern  therein.  Upon  the 
King's  declaration  of  his  Supremacy  over  the  Church, 
Richard  Vowell,  our  Prior,  Edmund  Warham,  the 
then  Sub-Prior,  and  twenty  Canons,  subscribed  unto 
it  on  Friday,  the  likh  of  September,  in  the  year 
1534.     But  though  this  was  received  as  the  act  of  all 


438  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

our  House,  yet  did  not  the  whole  Brotherhood  sign 
the  same :  for  Father  George  Gisborough,  of  whom  I 
have  afore  spoken,  and  divers  others  denied  it ;  and 
for  mine  own  part,  I  was  then,  by  order  of  the  Prior, 
at  Flitcham,  a  Cell  belonging  unto  our  Abbey,  some 
fifteen  miles  distant.  So  passed  I  unquestioned  in  that 
matter,  but  sixteen  of  my  resisting  brethren  were  long 
and  cruelly  imprisoned,  and  five  of  them  were  hanged 
for  hiffh  treason  in  1536.  And  in  their  sad  fite  did 
I  full  well  deem  that  1  beheld  mine  own,  what  time 
it  was  determined  to  rid  Walsingham  Abbey  of  it's 
Canons,  and  leave  the  same  at  the  King's  pleasure ; 
the  which  was  brought  about  in  this  manner. 

In  July,  soon  after  the  Feast  of  Pentecost,  in  the 
thirtieth  year  of  Henry  VHI.,  namely  1538,  certain 
Commissioners  came  vmto  our  House  to  make  Visita- 
tion, the  chief  thereof  being  Sir  Richard  Southwell. 
They  assayed  divers  devices  to  effect  their  end,  by 
separate  and  secret  examinations  both  of  the  Brethren 
and  Servitors ;  but  first  they  so  wrought  with  our 
Prior,  that  they  made  him  of  a  very  facile  and  ready 
mind  to  follow  their  counsel  in  this  matter,  and  sur- 
render his  Monastery  unto  the  King  or  his  assigns ; 
for  the  which  service  he  did  soon  after  receive  a  pen- 
sion of  ^fc'lOO  yearly,  and,  peradventure,  doth  still 
enjoy  the  same.  He  did  then  forthwith  propound 
Henry's  desire  unto  us  in  full  Chapter,  and  read  a 
deed  which  had  been  given  unto  him  to  sign,  declar- 
ing the  misorder  and  evil  rule  of  the  Brethren  of  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENET9.  439 

Abbey,  both  unto  God  and  the  King,  which  con- 
strained him  to  give  it  up.  Furthermore,  he  counsel- 
led us  to  join  him  herein,  assuring  us  of  pensions  or 
advancement  in  the  Church,  for  so  doing,  and  shew- 
ing us  that  it  was  altogether  vain  to  withstand  the 
Sovereign's  commandment.  The  tidings  of  this  guer- 
don had  much  Aveight  with  divers  of  my  fellows,  who 
were  in  truth  worldly  and  evil  men,  unfitted  for  a 
monastic  life  ;  and,  therefore,  did  they  yield  unto  the 
Prior's  counsel,  and  subscribed  the  said  deed,  for  the 
which  they  received  certain  pensions,  from  forty  shil- 
lings to  nine  marks  yearly. 

Thus  was  the  noted  Abbey  of  Walsingham,  with 
Flitcham  Cell,  given  up  unto  the  King,  by  a  brief  writ 
in  Latin,  enrolled  in  the  Chancery,  and  bearing  date 
on  Friday,  the  4th  of  August;  but  thereunto  was 
added  a  most  shameful  and  dishonest  confession  in 
English,  and  so  I  was  resolved  to  set  mine  hand  unto 
neither,  let  the  bribes  or  the  consequences  be  what 
they  might.  The  said  declaration  set  forth  that  we, 
and  others  of  our  pretensed  religion,  had  long  time 
used  divers  papistical  ceremonies ;  such  as  wearing 
of  scapulars  and  hoods,  black  and  white  garments, 
M'ith  vain  dockying  and  becking,  and  disguising  our- 
selves after  strange  fashions,  the  which  belonged  not 
unto  Christian  living.  Moreover,  it  was  affirmed 
therein,  that  we  had  been  guilty  of  much  profane 
fraud  touching  the  miracles  and  supposed  holy  re- 
liques  of  our  Shrine,  and  that  we  led  notorious  lewd 


440 


THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 


and  incontinent  lives  in  our  Abbey ;  for  the  which 
we  yielded  up  all  unto  the  King's  pleasure,  and  re- 
solved to  live  in  future  more  according  to  the  exam- 
ples of  the  Evangelists  and  Apostles.  Now  much  of 
this  confession  did  I  utterly  deny  and  scorn :  and 
being  closely  questioned  thereupon  by  Henry's  Visi- 
tors, as  to  wherefore  I  deemed  myself  more  righteous 
than  my  fellows,  I  boldly  answered  unto  them  that  I 
claimed  no  such  holiness,  since  I  knew  full  well  that 
my  sins  had  been  over-many  and  very  foul  in  the 
sight  of  God ;  yet  that  I  led  the  best  life  mine  im- 
perfect nature  might  reach  unto,  and  trusted  to 
amend  it  by  His  grace,  and  that  specially  had  I  not 
to  answer  for  such  crimes  as  the  confession  declared. 
For  our  miracles  and  the  holy  reliques,  I  said  that  I 
spake  only  what  I  was  taught,  and  did  really  believe, 
and  knew  nothing  of  fraud  therein  ;  but  that  if  my 
fellows  were  guilty,  they  had  been  so  by  their  own 
counsel  and  at  their  own  peril,  the  which  I  left  unto 
their  own  souls  and  the  great  Judge  of  all  hearts. 
Finally  I  declared,  that  for  the  habits  and  ceremonies 
which  they  reviled  as  superstitious  and  idolatrous,  I 
had  used  them  only  as  the  meet  and  reverent  rites 
ordained  of  the  Church  ;  and  that  as  holy  Powle  said 
of  old,  after  the  way  which  they  called  heresy,  so 
worshipped  I  the  God  of  my  fathers. 

"  Hah !  my  masters,"  hereupon  exclaimed  Sir 
Richard  Southwell  unto  his  fellow-commissioners, 
for  they  Avere  then  seated  in  council  around  a  table 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  441 

in  our  Refectory, — "  how  think  you,  sirs,  is  not  this 
a  most  contentious  Canon  and  truculent  priest,  thus 
to  oppose  the  King's  Majesty  ? — In  my  judgement,  I 
trow  he  deserves  little  less  than  to  be  tied  up  in  a 
sack  and  thrown  into  the  Stif key.  What  sayest  thou 
unto  this,  fellow  ?" 

"Briefly,"  responded  I,  "that  I  do  neither  resist 
the  King's  commands,  nor  might  hope  any  thing 
from  doing  so,  therefore  let  him  take  when  he  will 
my  poor  share  of  this  vvorld's  goods  in  this  Alonas- 
tery ;  for  he  who  hath  given  himself  up  unto  a  holy 
life,  is  pledged  unto  poverty,  and  may  call  nothing 
his  own  save  his  habit  and  rosary.  Yet  would  I  say, 
let  the  King  beware  how  he  seizes  upon  the  posses- 
sions of  the  Holy  Church ;  lest,  like  the  Eagle  in 
jEsopus,  who  stole  a  brand  from  an  altar  and  carried 
it  unto  her  eyrie,  he  do  but  fire  his  own  house  with 
the  sacrilegious  spoil. — And  for  the  consequences 
which  you  menace  unto  my  free  speech  and  alledged 
resistance,  I  fear  nothing :  they  may  indeed  affright 
rich  and  dainty  folk,  who  fare  sumptuously  and  be 
clothed  delicately,  and  have  their  chiefest  hopes  in 
this  world, — but  unto  me,  and  such  as  me,  the  sack 
and  the  river  have  no  terrors;  since,  I  give  thanks 
unto  God,  I  know  the  way  to  Heaven  to  be  as  short 
and  as  sure  by  water  as  by  land." 

Thus  plain  and  fearless  was  my  speech,  although 
it  placed  me  in  sudden  and  no  little  hazard,  for  I  was 
forthwith   matle  close  prisoner  in  my  study,  a  dark 


442  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PL,ANTAGENETS. 

narrow  cell  over  the  Dormitory,  until  Henry's  plea- 
sure should  be  known  concerning  me ;  and  there  left 
with  little  to  support  life,  and  nothing  of  comfort.  In 
the  mean  space,  our  common  seal  was  broken,  the 
Prior  and  other  Brethren  were  put  forth  of  the  Ab- 
bey, and  it's  spoliation  completed.  All  that  might  be 
gathered  from  it  for  sale,  as  the  lead,  the  bells,  and 
such  like,  were  carried  away,  the  Church,  the  Li- 
brary, the  Canons'  chambers,  and  every  other  place 
being  stripped,  and  then  left  to  fall  into  that  decay 
in  which  it  now  appeareth  ;  though  the  Prior's  lodg- 
ings and  offices  were  yet  left  standing,  for  the  com- 
modity of  him  unto  whom  the  King  should  grant 
the  possession.  Then  followed  the  destruction  of  the 
rich  and  noted  Shrine  of  our  Lady,  as  that  of  Arch- 
bishop Becket  at  Canterbury  was  also  destroyed  and 
despoiled ;  when,  albeit  his  remains  had  been  vene- 
rated by  all  the  pious  for  so  many  ages,  his  bones 
were  burned  on  the  very  spot  where  hosts  of  pilgrims 
had  so  often  knelt  to  do  them  honour.  Then  came 
forth  a  Proclamation,  declaring  that  the  said  Archbi- 
shop was  a  traitor  and  no  Saint ;  that  pictures  and 
effigies  of  him  should  be  destroyed ;  that  feasts  unto 
his  honour  should  be  for  ever  done  away ;  and  that 
even  his  very  name  should  be  blotted  out  of  all 
books,  upon  pain  of  the  King's  displeasure  and  im- 
prisonment. The  costly  plate  and  precious  jewels  of 
our  once-wealthy  Shrine,  were  now  taken  away  and 
reserved  for  the  King ;  and  the  furniture  and  all  the 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENET8.  443 

Other  goods  of  the  Abbe}^  were  either  sold,  when 
their  price  was  paid  into  the  Court  of  Augmentation, 
then  of  late  set  up  for  that  very  purpose,  or  else  were 
wantonly  destroyed.  In  especial  our  reliques  were 
burned,  divers  of  our  images  broken  to  pieces  and 
given  unto  the  flames,  and  the  great  and  famous  EfR- 
gy  of  our  Lady  carried  unto  London,  and  afterwards 
consumed  at  Chelsea. 

Nevertheless,  of  these  ravages  I  beheld  only  the  sad 
ruins  and  effects,    being    all  the  time    held  a  close, 
though  neglected,  prisoner  in  my  cell :  where  I  almost 
deemed  that  it  Avas  the  intent  of  the  ^''isitors  to  leave 
me  to  die  of  sickness  or  hunger ;  for  I  had  not  now 
of  a  long  space  breathed  the   free  air   of  heaven,  and 
not  seldom  the  day  would  pass,  and  none  come  to  bring 
me  food,  so  that  I  began  to  sink  under  that  most  ri- 
gorous confinement.     I  remember,  moreover,  how  it 
was  at  this  time  told,  that  the  like  sickness  and  death 
had  befallen  several  Carthusian  Monks  of  London, 
who  were  shut  up  in  Newgate  prison  for  resisting  the 
King ;  whose  fate  was   not  thought  to  be  cruelty  in 
the  Visitors  of  their  House,  but  the  righteous  judge- 
ment of  God.     And  hereupon  was   I  exceeding   sad, 
yet  possessed  I  nought  which  might  console  me  save 
my  books,  Avhich  were  yet  left  unto  me  in  my  nar- 
row cell,  and  specially  the  learned  Wiclif 's  New  Tes- 
tament in  English,  which  had  been  given  unto  me  by 
the  dear  departed  Lady  Bride  Plantagenet. — I  had 
already  glanced  over  that  most  ancient  tome,  though 


444  THE    LAST    OF    THK    PLANTAGENETS. 

rather  from  reverent  attachment  unto  the  memory  of 
the  beloved  donor,  than  from  any  desire  to  acquaint 
me  with  the  book  itself;  but  at  this  time,  in  the  sad 
and  weary  leisure  of  captivity,  I  set   me  to  read  it 
through  with  more  diligence,  to  while  away  the  deso- 
late waste   of  my   melancholy  hours.     And   now  was 
come  the  season  of  my  spiritual  deliverance ;  for,  like 
Saul  journeying  vmto  Damask,  the  light  from  Heaven 
suddenly  shone  about  me,  and  shewed  me  how  vain 
had  been  my  former  life,  and  much  of  my  present 
faith.     I  beheld  gradually,  yet  with  great  amaze,  the 
wondrous  superstition  into   which   our  Church  had 
sunken,  by  praying  unto  Saints  and   Angels  instead 
of  unto  Christ  the  only  Mediator ;  and  I  now  noted  the 
wide  difference  betwixt  the  lives  of  the  holy  Evange- 
lists and   Apostles,    and  those  led  by   many   of  the 
monks  and  brethren  with  whom  I  had  been  wont  to 
company.     Now  could  I  fervently  join  in  that  most 
christian  desire    and  prayer   of  the    beatified   Lady 
Bride,  that  all  England  should  have  the  Rule  of  Faith 
in  the  common  speech,  that  men  might  be  led  to  read 
and  ponder  the  same  for  themselves  ;  and  now  did  I 
rejoice  over  the  dawning  fulfilment  of  her  dying  pro- 
phecy in  the  reformation   of  our  corrupt  Clergy,  and 
the  spread  of  the  Translated  Word  against  all  opposi- 
tion, which  shewed  it  of  a  truth  lo  be  a  divine  thing, 
against  M^hich  no  weapon  that  was  turned  could  pros- 
per.    For  the  English  Testaments  of  late  set  forth  in 
Flanders,  by   William   Tindal    and  John  Frith,  had 


THE    LAST    OP    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  445 

spread  wondrously  through  the  reahn ;  and  albeit 
Cuthbert  Tonstall,  the  Bishop  of  London,  had  seized 
upon  all  copies  whereon  he  could  lay  his  hands,  and 
burned  them  Avith  foul  contumely  at  Powle's  Cross, 
yet  was  not  the  incorruptible  seed  of  the  Word  to  be 
destroyed  by  fire,  but  the  truth,  as  in  the  Apostles' 
days,  grew  mightily  :  and  other  and  larger  Translations 
of  the  whole  Scriptures  followed,  until  at  length  the 
realm  Avas  made  glad  by  divers  English  Bibles,  printed 
by  the  command  of  the  King  himself. 

I  had,  until  this  time,  taken  little  note  of  these 
things,  because  the  hour  was  not  come  when  mine 
eyes  should  be  opened ;  for,  since  the  Lady  Bride's 
death,  life  seemed  unto  me  a  dreary  waste,  wherein 
there  was  nought  but  sorrow  and  unceasing  disap- 
pointment. But  now,  as  the  truth  dawned  upon  my 
mind,  and  I  thankfully  prayed  over  the  increasing 
brightness,  I  felt  a  holy  joy  fill  my  soul  in  the  midst 
of  all  my  sorrows,  like  unto  that  which  made  Powle 
and  Silas  worship  and  sing  praises  unto  God  in  their 
prison  at  midnight. 

And  even  upon  this  spiritual  liberation,  came  my 
temporal  freedom ;  for  the  King's  Visitors  did  at 
length  sell  the  site  of  Walsingham  Abbey,  with  it's 
churchyard,  orchards,  and  gardens,  unto  one  Thomas 
Sydney  for  ^£90.  This  was  done  in  November,  1531), 
whereupon  they  left  our  ruined  House,  albeit  I  was 
still  immured  within  my  cell;  where,  indeed,  it  is 
like  that  I   should   have  died,  had  it   not  been  for  a 


446  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

wondrous  and  all  unlooked-lbr  providence.  I  have 
already  recounted  that  when  Henry  came  unto  Wal- 
singham,  the  Abbey  was  not  perfectly  edified,  and, 
therefore,  certain  masons  and  builders  were  long  em- 
ployed thereon  ;  the  oversight  of  whom  was  assigned 
unto  me,  because  of  my  former  knowledge  and  prac- 
tice of  their  art.  The  chief  of  these  was  one  Master 
Bartholomew  Stonehewer,  of  Norwich,  a  most  skilful 
and  ancient  person,  whom  I  had  known  at  Westmin- 
ster, what  time  I  aided  Father  Austin  of  Ely  in  build- 
ing Henry  Tudor's  Chapel  there,  wherefrom  he  did 
still  keep  me  in  lively  remembrance  and  favour.  It  so 
chanced,  that  he  was  engaged  by  the  new  possessor  of 
the  destroyed  Abbey,  to  build  him  a  fair  IManor-house 
on  the  site  thereof,  with  the  stones  of  the  ruins  ;  and, 
learning  of  mine  imprisonment,  he  did  at  length  con- 
trive mine  escape  in  the  night,  in  the  habit  of  one  of 
his  own  workmen,  with  much  hazard  unto  himself; 
spreading  abroad  the  report,  that  in  taking  down  one 
of  the  cells,  they  had  found  the  remains  of  my  lifeless 
body. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE    CLOSE    AND    MORAL    OP    AN    OLD    MAN  S    STORY. 


Having  now  my  journey  done, 


Just  at  the  setting'  of  the  sun  ; 

Here  I  have  found  a  chamber  fit, 

God  and  good  friends  be  thank'd  for  it ! 

Herrtck. 

No  !  I  would  not  live  again 

The  morning  hours  of  life  ; 

I  would  not  be  again 
The  slave  of  hope  and  fear  ; 
I  would  not  learn  again 
The  wisdom  by  Experience  hardly  taught. 
To  me  the  past  presents 
No  object  for  regret ; 
To  me  the  present  gives 
All  cause  for  full  content. 
The  future, — it  is  now  the  cheerful  noon. 
And  on  the  sunny-smiling  fields  I  gaze 

With  eyes  alive  to  joy  ; 
When  the  dark  night  descends, 
I  willingly  shall  close  my  weary  lids, 
Secure  to  wake  again. 

SOUTHEY. 

I  WEEN  that  full  little  is  now  remaining  to  be  said  of 
my  poor  history,  for  it  skills  not  here  to  repeat  the 
straits  whereunto  I  was  reduced,  when  I  was  thus 
drifted  forth  again  upon  the  stormy  sea  of  the  wide 
world,  or  the  loneliness  of  heart  which  I  felt  therein- 


448     THE  LAST  OP  THK  PLANTAGENKTS. 

The  few  dear  friends  whom  I  had  once  known  or 
might  have  claimed,  were  eitlier  long  since  dispersed 
or  dead ;  and  had  all  fallen  around  me,  and  left  me 
desolate  and  destitute,  like  a  rock  when  the  tide  hath 
left  it  dry  and  bare,  or  as  the  Autumn-blast  that 
shaketh  the  tree  and  scattereth  the  leaves  thereof, 
whilst  the  trunk  standeth  naked  and  alone  amidst  all 
the  tempests  of  the  coming  winter.  Howbeit,  even 
in  my  most  forlorn  estate,  was  my  mind  more  hopeful 
and  tranquil,  than  it  had  been  whilst  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures and  the  pure  simplicity  of  a  Christian  life  were 
unknown  to  me ;  and  specially  did  I  draw  this  conso- 
lation from  the  early  decease  of  my  friends,  that  I  had 
so  many  ties  less  unto  earth,  and  so  many  more  allure- 
ments unto  Heaven,  those  supporters  being  taken 
from  me  that  I  might  put  my  trust  in  God  only. 

Yet  had  Master  Stonehewer  given  unto  me  some- 
what more  than  liberty,  for,  knowing  mine  acquaint- 
ance with  his  own  art,  he  commended  me  unto  one  of 
the  same  craft  for  entertainment ;  and  I  did  once 
more  practise  it  in  lowly  and  cautious  disguise,  to 
baffle  the  purposes  of  those  who  would  have  sought 
my  life.  The  payment  of  my  daily  toil,  mean  as  it 
was,  provided  me  Viith  bread ;  the  blessed  hope  of 
Christ  was  in  mine  heart,  and  more  I  sought  not :  yet 
did  I  sometimes  sorrow  for  the  unquiet  state  of  the 
Church  of  this  realm,  for  the  fickle  and  boisterous 
rule  and  the  fierce  persecutions  of  Henry,  touching  the 
Christian  Faith,  and  for  the  hapless  lot  of  the  many 


THE    I>,\ST    OF    TIIK    PI.ANTAGKNKTS.  449 

Brethren  expelled  from  the  late  dissolved  Blonasteries 
who  could  neither  dig  nor  beg ;  but  for  myself  1 
mourned  not,  since  I  was  but  subjected  unto  the  com- 
mon lot  of  man, — to  labour  until  I  should  return  unto 
the  ground. 

And  now,  the  tale  of  my  life  draweth  unto  a 
close  ;  the  M'hich,  they  who  may  haply  scan  the  same 
in  after-years,  shall  find  it  to  be,  as  I  have  afore  de- 
clared, all  inglorious  and  full  of  sorrow.  That,  in- 
deed, it  ended  not  in  direful  disaster,  instead  of  my 
present  most  tranquil  retreat  from  the  world,  I  cannot 
attribute  unto  mine  own  caution  or  goodness,  but 
chiefest  must  I  laud  the  wise  and  merciful  governance 
of  God ;  which  led  the  unsteady  steps  of  my  youth, 
if  not  into  the  ways  of  pleasantness,  at  least  some- 
times into  the  ])aths  of  peace,  and  did  ever  keep  me 
from  wandering  into  dangerous  error.  And,  more- 
over, I  may  thank  Him  for  having  raised  up  unto  me 
the  friend  and  patron  of  mine  old  age,  the  noble  Sir 
Thomas  JMoyle,  for  whom  this  little  tome  hath  been 
written  to  record  the  passages  of  my  former  life;  and, 
such  as  it  is  found,  may  he  receive  it  with  favour ! 
Here,  then,  might  I  well  finish  mine  history  and  my 
labours;  for  it  availeth  little  that  I  should  recount  unto 
him,  how  he  first  took  note  of  the  aged  Richard  Plan- 
tagenet,  or  how  large  were  his  efforts  or  his  bounty  to 
give  solace  unto  the  closing  days  of  my  pilgrimage. 
But  to  tlie  end  tliat  his  noble  charity  may  never  be 
forgotten,  and  that  others  who  shall  read  this  my  story 

2   G 


450  THE    LAST    OK    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

may  know  the  fate  of  my  latter  clays,  I  will  give  a 
brief  relation  thereof;  shunning,  as  I  best  may,  the 
very  shadow  of  flattery,  although,  natheless,  it  is 
not  easily  avoided,  wlien  the  pensioner  recounteth  his 
story  unto  the  very  patron  who  hath  snatched  him 
from  want  and  sorrow. 

It  was,  then,  I  think,  about  the  year  1543,  that  Sir 
Thomas  Moyle  bought  the  late  Sir  Christopher  Hales' 
fair  Manor  of  Eastwell  in  Kent;  he  being  at  that 
time  Speaker  of  the  Commons  House  of  Parliament, 
Chancellor  of  the  Court  of  Augmentation,  in  high  fa- 
vour with  Henry  VIH.,  and  possessed  of  great  wealth 
by  his  honourable  labours  in  the  laws  of  this  realm. 
He  next  determined  to  build  him  a  stately  mansion  in 
the  said  Manor,  and  thereupon  he  reared  the  noble 
Palace  of  Eastwell,  carrying  down  certain  masons  for 
the  same,  witli  whom  were  myself  and  he  who  enter- 
tained me.  Albeit  my  fortunes  were  now  indeed  sunken 
full  low,  yet,  even  at  this  time,  did  I  remember  so 
much  of  my  gentle  birth  and  of  the  learning  of  my 
younger  days,  as  to  keep  me  apart  from  the  baser  sort 
of  my  fellow-workmen,  and  still  to  look  upon  some 
notable  author  at  all  my  moments  of  leisure ;  though, 
as  that  which  I  read  was  full  often  in  the  Latin 
tongue,  I  was  ever  fain  to  hide  it  from  my  companions 
or  any  who  a])proached,  lest  it  should  but  provoke 
blame  or  derision.  The  book  wherein  I  read  whilst 
I  wrought  at  Eastwell,  was  that  most  choice  colloquy 
of  Marcus    Tullius  Cicero  upon  Old  Age,   which  I 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 


451 


found  to  be  somewhat  of  divine  solace  unto  me  now 
that  I  had  reached  the  same  condition  of  life :  and 
which  made  me  not  only  resigned  and  hopeful  for  the 
future,  but  even  content  with  the  past,  stormy  as  in 
truth  it  had  been.  And  methought  his  Cato  did  herein 
breathe  out  somewhat  almost  holy  and  christian,  in  that 
place  wherein  he  wondrously  entreateth  of  his  past 
days,  which  beginneth  "Quod  si  qids  Deus  mihi  lar- 
giatur,"  which  in  our  own  tongue,  as  I  applied  it  unto 
myself,  standeth  thus. — Should  it  please  God  to  give 
unto  me  a  grant  again  to  begin  my  life  from  my  very 
cradle,  and  once  more  to  run  over  the  course  of  my 
years,  yet  would  not  I  in  any  wise  accept  thereof. 
Nor  would  I,  having  now  in  a  manner  finished  my 
race,  run  it  over  again  from  the  starting-place  unto  the 
goal ;  for  what  pleasure  hath  my  life  had  in  it  ?  Nay, 
rather,  what  pain  had  it  not }  though,  were  there  none, 
there  would  questionless  have  been  much  weariness 
and  trouble  therein.  Yet  am  I  not  now  for  bewailing 
my  past  life,  as  many,  even  wise  men,  have  done  ;  nor 
do  I  repent  me  that  I  have  lived,  because  God  hath 
led  me  to  live  so,  that  I  am  assured  my  days  have  not 
been  given  in  vain  :  so  that  when  I  quit  this  life,  I 
leave  it  but  as  an  inn,  and  not  as  mine  established 
dwelling  ;  the  bodies  which  Nature  hath  given  us,  be- 
ing but  as  a  hostel  wherein  to  lodge  for  a  brief  season 
and  not  to  abide  in.  Oh  !  how  goodly  and  glorious, 
therefore,  Avill  that  day  be,  when  I  shall  leave  for  ever 
the  rabble-rout  and  defilements  of  this  world  behind 


452  THE    LAST    OF    THE     PLANTAGENETS . 

me,  and  go  unto  God  and  the  fellowship  of  the  world 
of  spirits  above  !  — 

It  so  chanced,  then,  that  in  the  hot  season  of  Sum- 
mer, when  the  workmen  were  resting  from  their  la- 
bours at  noontide,  I  retired  me  into  one  of  the  cham- 
bers of  the  mansion,  and  was  pondering  over  the  al- 
most heavenly  philosophy  of  this  divine  Roman,  and 
mine  own  present  condition;  whereupon  I  fell  into  a 
deep  musing,  with  mine  hand  pointing  unto  the  w^ords 
I  have  recounted,  albeit  I  was  all  forgetful  of  that 
which  was  around  me.  On  a  sudden,  the  sound  of  a 
voice  near  me  recalled  my  wandering  senses,  where- 
upon I  started  up,  but  my  book  was  gone,  though  pre- 
sently I  saw  it  in  the  hands  of  a  grave  and  full-aged 
man,  of  tall  stature  and  noble  air,  richly  habited  in 
black,  who  was  reading  the  passage  whereto  I  had 
pointed,  with  a  benign  and  tranquil  visage,  yet  with 
somewhat  of  amaze;  as  if  he  had  been  one  who  knew 
and  felt  it  for  himself,  albeit  he  wondered  how  it 
should  be  understood  or  chosen  by  a  common  workman 
such  as  I  did  appear.  When,  therefore,  he  noted  that 
mine  attention  was  fixed  upon  him,  he  addressed  me 
with  gentle  speech,  saying  that  he  meant  not  to  dis- 
turb my  reading  or  repose,  albeit  curiosity  had  led 
him  to  look  on  that  which  I  seemed  to  have  been  stu- 
dying, and  that  he  much  marvelled  to  find  it  Latin. 
This  led  me  to  relate  unto  him  mine  early  instruction 
therein,  and  other  discourse  followed,  whereby  I 
found  tlie  good  Sir  Thomas  Moyle,  for  it  was  no  other 


THE    LAST    OF    THE     PLANTAGENETS.  453 

than  that  noble  Knight  himself,  who  now  talked  with 
me, — to  be  of  so  genei-ous  and  charitable  a  soul,  that 
I  disclosed  unto  him  somewhat  more  of  my  story ; 
the  which,  whilst  he  greatly  wondered  at,  he  not  only 
promised  should  be  kept  secret,  but  he  did  at  once 
assure  me  of  his  protection  and  favour  for  the  re- 
mainder of  my  days,  Avherein  he  said  I  should  labour  no 
more.  That  excellent  person,  indeed,  would  fain  have 
received  into  his  own  household  the  aged  form  of  the 
Last  of  the  Plantagenets,  yet  did  he  afterwards  con- 
sent to  make  me  happy  according  to  mine  own  desire, 
by  giving  me  a  little  spot  of  ground  near  his  mansion, 
whereon  I  might  rear  me  my  last  retreat  from  the 
tempests  of  the  world. 

This  dwelling,  thei-efore,  was  edified  about  1546, 
and  here,  in  this  fair  and  solitary  Eastwell,  have  I  now 
lived  nearly  four  years,  in  full  security  and  free  from 
care.  Nor  do  I  lack  for  either  company  or  converse, 
for  beside  that  the  noble  Knight  and  his  gentle  con- 
sort do  often  come  unto  my  cottage,  to  discourse  with 
me  upon  the  passages  of  former  days,  I  do  also  some- 
times receive  their  two  fair  daughters  and  their  state- 
ly spouses ;  the  Lady  Catherine  married  unto  Sir 
Tliomas  Finch,  and  the  Lady  Anne  unto  Sir  Thomas 
Kempe.  Nay,  farther,  when  that  there  is  holiday  at 
Eastwell  Palace  by  all  the  noble  tamily  being  assem- 
bled there,  the  fair  and  promising  offspring  of  those 
Knights  and  Dames  do  love  to  gather  them  around  the 
aged  Fitz-Richard,   and   court  him  to  tell  them  the 


454  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAOENETS. 

tales  of  his  own  youth :  the  brave  boys  asking  him 
to  speak  of  the  fights  of  Bosvvorth-field,  of  Stoke, 
the  battles  of  France  and  Burgundy,  of  the  royal 
King  Richard,  the  stout  Sir  Gilbert  De  JMountford, 
and  the  good  and  valourous  Lord  Lovel ;  whereupon 
I  can  well  mark  how  the  striplings'  eyes  fire,  their 
hearts  beat,  and  their  feet  plant  them  more  firmly  at 
the  recital.  The  fair-haired  girls,  too,  will  often  ask 
me  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  the  good  Queen 
Elizabeth  and  her  daughters,  and  specially  of  the 
Lady  Bride,  over  whose  memory  they  have  blended 
their  sweet  tears  with  mine.  And  thus  do  I  conti- 
nually, as  it  were,  live  my  life  again,  without  the  pain 
or  labour  which  I  felt  when  I  first  assayed  it ;  and  by 
thus  often  recurring  unto  the  scenes  thereof,  they  are 
ever  present  with  me,  beside  that  I  have  some  few 
passages  of  it  written  :  and,  moreover,  the  memory  of 
an  old  man  is  ever  best  for  the  past,  seeing  that  he 
regards  but  little  either  the  present  or  the  future. 
This,  then,  hath  enabled  me  to  pleasure  my  noble 
patron  by  recording  my  story,  as  he  hath  willed  me, 
so  exactly  as  it  is  here  written ;  yet,  natheless,  have 
I  done  it  with  much  toil,  and  man}'  sad  thoughts  and 
remembrances,  both  for  myself  and  the  world  wherein 
1  have  lived. 

For,  when  I  do  look  backward,  my  life  doth  some- 
times appear  nought  but  sorrow,  doubt,  and  disap- 
pointment ;  and  though  such,  I  question  not,  will 
often  be  found  in  the  course  of  many  of  full  high 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  455 

estate,  whom  the  ill-jiulging  world  deems  to  be  the 
happiest  of  men, — yet  have  I  sometimes  known  mo- 
ments of  sorrow,  wherein  I  have  almost  sunken  under 
very  weariness  of  spirit,  whilst  pondering  over  mine 
hapless  condition  and  pilgrimage.  It  was  not  mine 
to  be  borne  up  by  those  inspiring  hopes  which  are 
full  often  to  be  found  woven  into  the  very  fabric  of 
the  lives  of  others ;  but,  with  a  heart  well-attuned 
unto  kind  fellowship  with  all,  I  have  been  doomed 
unto  solitude  and  danger,  and  sternly,  as  I  have  some- 
times thought  it,  cut  off  from  the  friendship  and  love 
of  mankind. 

And  from  that  mournful  memorable  day  which  saw 
the  sun  of  Plantagenet  set  in  blood,  when  I  beheld 
my  royal  father  dying  upon  the  battle-field,  sorrow 
hath  ever  been  familiar  unto  me,  and  joy  little  less 
than  a  sti-anger :  for  mine  was  a  youth  of  doubt  and 
peril,  the  hazards  whereof  ended  not  even  when  it 
had  passed  into  manhood.  For  this  cause,  I  ever 
stood  alone  in  the  crowd  of  those  with  whom  at 
divers  times  I  consorted,  and  have  never  ceased  to 
feel  myself  as  a  link  severed  from  the  great  chain  of 
living  men  ;  since  but  few  have  mourned  with  me  in 
my  sorrows,  and  joys  have  I  had  none  to  share  with 
any  :  and  albeit  I  have  suffered  much  from  the  cruelty 
of  man,  never  have  I  been  soothed  by  the  tender  cares 
of  woman.  Yet,  natheless,  have  I  flattered  me  with 
the  thought,  that  there  was  in  truth  one  gentle  crea- 
ture, who  sometimes  beamed  upon  my  darkened  path, 


456  THE    LAST    or    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

Avho  would  have  been  contented  to  have  shared  my 
lot,  had  God  so  -  "^  •     '^nt  it  was  not  to  be  ;  the 

unreal  vision  cli  ,^^  but  for  a  few  brief 

ho>'"=  ,ke  from  the  pleasant  dream, 

only    agu.  encounter     substantial     and    lasting 

sorrow. 

Yes  !  she  hath  fled  ! — the  Lady  Bride  hath  reached 
her  eternal  home,  and  thus  escaped  more  years  of 
suffering  upon  earth;  tltough  truly  she  also  knew 
enough  of  this  world's  sorrow,  ere  her  gentle  spirit 
was  released.  It  was  her's  to  behold  her  widowed 
mother,  the  consort  of  the  victorious  Edward,  taught 
by  dire  adversity  how  hollow,  false,  and  worthless, 
were  the  gaudy  things  of  time  which  she  had  once  so 
fondly  courted ;  and  it  was  her's  to  feel  that  the 
throne  and  coronal,  which  made  that  Queen  so  envied 
of  all  her  sex,  were  no  armour  of  proof  to  shield  her 
from  hazard  and  oppression.  The  Lady  Bride  be- 
held, too,  how  the  good  Elizabet'  ,  although  herself  a 
Queen  and  the  mother  of  a  Queei  ,  was  left  so  desti- 
tute in  her  last  m  .its,  that  not  a  relique  of  her 
greatness  »  ained  into  her,  and  she  wanted  means 
to  bestow  even  a  parting  gift  up;  her  kindred, 
friends,  and  itors  ;    the  gr.  -  Tudor's 

avarice   havii  her  of  all .  was  the 

daughter  of  tl.  y  Bride, 

the  good  Elizauv^wi   ot    ^  ork,   in  aught  more  pros- 
perous. 

But  unto  the  dead,  and  specially  unto  such  as  are 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  457 

happily-partedj  the  sorrows  of  this  world  are  as  if 
they  had  not  been,  beside  that  th  '~"ape  from  many 
which  fall   upon  their  survivors  I  do  ever  and 

anon  feel  the  heavy  sum  of   sr'-e  own  mischances 
lessened,   when  I    look   backwa.       Jong  the  lir 
hapless  and   disquiet  year'    s";  .s 

death,   or  upon  the  rua^'j  •'.  av  '  path  which 

I   have  travelled,   and  rejoice  .ii)em];er  that  her 

feet  were  so  early  and  safely  lix  above  those  thorns 
and  briars.  Yet  can  I  nww  1  •'^k  upon  these  mis- 
chances with  much  CMnnnp  ,  for,  albeit  my  youth 
was  full  restless  and  fiery  ander  those  disappoint- 
ments, old  age  is  a  sen  son  of  repose  ;  and  I  tru«t  the 
falling  leaves  of  almost  fourscore  A.utumns  have  not 
counselled  me  in  vain.     Yes!  the  v  :l  of  my 

grief  even  for  her  is  ass  waged,  and  I  c.  '  '  >v  beiar  to 
dwell  upon  her  love,  and  yearly  to  visit  her  tomb 
with  a  tranquil  sorrow,  though  '<*■  cuauseth  all  that 
ever  spake  unto  me    f  cajihly  haj^piness. 

The  fierceness  ot  vny  hate  against  Li.      ppressor  of 
her  House  and  mine,  is  also  ugh  time  was 

when  I  would  have  washed  aw  tne  wrongs  of  both 
in  the  blood  of  the  Tudors ;  L.^-  I  have  lived  long 
enough  to  know  the  wisdom  oC  entrusting  the  cause 
of  suffering  virtue  unto  the  Great  Avenger,  who 
sometimes  le?veth  the  evil  heart  of  »  .an,  by  way  of 
still  greater  j  .in,  unto  the  self-  '  -stro\  'ng  sway  of  it's 
own  foul  passions.  And  I  ween  i.,  ^h  been  so  with 
the  line  of  Tudor;    for  did  the  crown   sit  securely 


458  XHB    LAST   OF    THE    PLANTAGENET8. 

upon  Henry  after  the  fight  of  Bosworth,  and  Richard's 
most  dishonoured  sepulture  ?  And  when  the  banner 
of  insurrection  was  reared  within  the  reahn,  were 
peace  or  justice  the  supporters  of  Henry's  throne? 
Moreover,  whilst  his  wasted  and  famishing  country 
was  \  '  ig  that  his  coffers  were  too  ca- 

pacious ever  to  overflow,  did  not  the  King  himself 
feel,  that  the  hand  may  hold  more  than  the  heart 
can  enjoy ;  and  that  the  eye  of  his  inquisition,  after 
visiting  with  fearful  glances  the  most  secret  matters 
of  private  men,  might  at  last  be  suddenly  turned 
inward  to  measure  the  depths  of  his  own  misery, 
and  be  overwhelmed  with  the  bitterness  of  it's  own 
repenting  tears  ? 

He  died,  yet  not  in  the  fulness  of  his  time,  for 
royalty  hath  it's  canker-worm,  as  well  as  the  rose.  He 
died  in  agony  and  sorrow,  and  the  mighty  cost  that 
was  lavished  upon  his  burial,  did  but  meanly  shew 
for  the  affections  of  his  people;  which  ^e,  who  coveted 
all,  failed  to  obtain.  In  truth,  he  sleepeth  now  under 
the  proud  sepulchral  pile  which  himself  erected ; 
which  shall,  perchance,  redeem  his  name  with  pos- 
terity :  but  full  stately  though  it  be,  it  will  yet  stand 
unto  after  ages,  but  as  the  durable  record  of  his  un- 
lawful covetousness  and  his  people'?  oppressions. 

But  let  not  a  Plantagenet,  though  fallen,  become  an 
uncharitable  reporter  of  the  actions  of  others.  Rich- 
mond did  indeed  gain-  hir  throne  by  the  sword,  but 
he  upheld  it  by  a  peaceful  policy  ;    and  those  civil 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENET8.  459 

tumults  which  had  long  desolated  the  land,  were 
healed  in  his  reign,  though  after  a  fierce  and  bloody 
struggle.  The  proud  Barons,  too,  who  often  did 
alike  make  head  against  the  Monarch  and  oppress  the 
people,  were  subdued,  and  were  terrible  no  longer. 
In  truth  I  will  say  of  this  King,  that  he  had  a  full 
cunning  wit  to  gain  wealth  and  power,  and  a  close 
grasp  to  keep  it:  and  with  this  praise  let  the  Lancas- 
trian rest. 

I  have  beheld,  also,  another  King  Henry,  Eighth 
of  his  name,  the  son  of  the  sister  of  the  Lady 
Bride, — whose  merry  and  lusty  youth  was  disgust- 
ed with  his  father's  avarice,  yet  hath  he  too  re- 
sorted to  the  same  rapacity  to  gratify  his  desire  for 
pomp  and  costly  shews  ;  which  led  him  to  be  careless 
and  prodigal  alike  of  his  own  wealth  and  that  of 
others.  Inheriting  his  mother's  right,  his  claim  unto 
the  Throne  of  England  was  two-fold  stronger  than 
his  father's,  and  so  was  he  never  assailed,  during  the 
long  period  of  his  power,  by  any  murmurs  of  disaf- 
fection from  his  people  ;  albeit  his  inconstant  cruelty 
might  well  have  tempted  them  to  renounce  their 
allegiance.  His  fiery  nature  brooked  not  the  slower, 
yet  more  certain,  means  of  overthrowing  an  adversary 
by  the  cold-hearted  devices  of  his  sire, — but  lie  ever 
went  straight  unto  his  aim  by  open  violence ;  with 
Avhich  he  was  at  all  times  prepared  to  silence  aught 
of  clamour  or  complaint.  His  oppressed  and  de- 
graded subjects  full   often  bowed  them  beneath  the 


460  THE    LAST    OP    THR    PLANTAGRNETS. 

force  of  his  power^  Avhilst  the  nation  had  but  one 
voice,  which  was  the  King's, — and  but  one  law, — his 
caprice.  The  consciences  of  men,  too,  were  disre- 
garded ;  and  all  were  required  at  his  bidding  to  take 
up  or  lay  aside  the  doctrines  of  their  Faith,  and  their 
most  solemn  belief  for  time  and  eternity,  with  un- 
questioning submission,  even  as  they  would  doff 
their  Avonted  garments. 

Nor,  tutored  by  the  memory  of  his  gentle  mother's 
sufferings,  did  he,  whilst  bending  unto  beauty,  know 
how  to  regard  the  feelings,  or  to  protect  the  weakness 
of  woman.  Alas  !  No  !  for  every  fair  flower  attracted 
him,  but  he  delighted  only  to  jiluck  and  to  destroy 
them.  His  Queens,  indeed,  died  not  broken  hearted, 
or  by  slow  degrees,  like  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Widvile, 
for  he  would  rather  blast  them  suddenly, — and, 
therefore,  the  couch  of  the  King  was  too  often  but 
a  step  unto  the  scaffold. — The  pages  of  his  reign, 
if  future  chroniclers  should  be  honest,  and  dare 
relate  what  our  eyes  have  seen,  will  exhibit,  perchance, 
the  saddest  picture  of  female  suffering  in  the  annals 
of  men; — which,  whilst  it  is  a  stain  on  the  chivalry 
of  the  age  that  did  bring  forth  such  actions,  will,  in 
after-time,  carry  home  unto  every  dwelling  in  this 
land,  the  certam  truth  that  a  retired  life  is  the  safest 
and  sweetest  sphere  of  a  woman's  virtues.  Henry  was 
a  knight  and  a  courtly  one,  too,  who  loved  tilts  and 
tournaments  to  display  his  prowess,  and  gain  the 
homage  of  heart  and  eye ;  but  whose  wrongs  was  he 


THE    LAST    OF    TIIR    rTANTAGENETS.  401 

ever  known  to  redress,  and  what  emotions  of  sym- 
pathy ever  bespake  him  true  unto  his  vows  ? 

He  professed,  and,  possibly,  did  love,  to  study  the 
deep  things  of  Divinity,  yet  not  for  the  wise  and 
holy  purpose  of  reforming  the  errors  and  corrup- 
tions of  his  people,  and  discovering  the  truth  for 
himself; — but  because  the  doubts  and  subtleties  of 
divers  doctrines  which  the  schoolmen  teach,  did  form 
for  him  a  fitting  engine  for  perplexing  or  destroying 
the  unwary.  Thus  ruled  he,  and  was  obeyed ; — 
he  exacted,  and  men  yielded  unto  his  oppressions  ; 
until  he  did  at  length  desire  to  spread  his  supremacy 
and  sway,  and  to  reign  alike  over  the  Church  and 
State,  and  command  his  subjects  even  in  those  things, 
which  embraced  not  only  time  but  reached  unto 
eternity  :  yet  did  this  lordly  ruler  of  men's  minds  and 
consciences  live  the  very  slave  of  his  own  pas- 
sions, and  died  undetermined  in  his  own  Faith  ! 
Under  the  rule  of  these  Sovereigns  of  the  Tudor 
race,  have  two  generations  of  men  passed  away  from 
the  earth;  and,  vuito  such  as  I  am,  a  weary  sojourner, 
what  mighty  changes  hath  not  Time  w  rouglit  in  that 
space,  over  the  thoughts  and  manners  of  my  fellows  ! 
And  herein  he  who,  like  me,  hath  had  to  struggle  with 
the  buffetings  of  Fortune,  may  well  be  allowed  to  note 
them,  and  full  often  to  indulge  him  in  mournful 
thoughts  upon  the  past,  rather  than  in  any  goodly  pro- 
spects for  the  future: — yet  would  1  shun  aught  of  a  re- 
pining or  embittered  spirit.     For,   albeit  I  have  seen 


462  THE    LAST    OF    THE    PI.ANTAGHNETS. 

and  known  much  of  sorrow  and  inaction — yet  must  I 
ever  confess  that  all  my  fellow-men  have  indeed  not 
been  thus  sad  and  indolent,  but  advancing  unto  high 
and  great  perfection  :  and,  amidst  all  the  toils  and  dif- 
ficulties, the  wrestlings  wherein  many  single  beings 
have  agonised,  and  sometimes  even  perished, — the 
eyes  of  Eternal  Wisdom  have  seemed  still  to  look 
down  and  govei'n  them  all ;  whilst  I  am  assured  that 
the  happiness  and  amendment  of  my  race,  is  slowly, 
yet  as  securely,  advancing,  as  the  sweet  and  early 
flowers  which  come  before  the  Spring,  look  out  from 
amidst  the  ice  and  snows  of  the  Winter. — By  much 
and  close  meditation  I  have  learned,  also,  that  the  high 
hopes  and  noble  end  of  man,  cannot  be  brought  about 
without  the  aid  of  adversity  ;  and  that  trials  are  sent 
unto  him  in  mercy,  not  to  sink  him  in  ruin  and  despon- 
dency, but  to  bring  into  action  the  ht^'  en-horn  powers 
of  his  nature ;  whilst  the  darkness  of  affliction  is  as 
meet  to  call  forth  the  excellence  of  his  immaterial 
spirit,  as  is  the  mantle  of  night  unto  the  skies,  to  dis- 
play the  bright  and  beautiful  stars  of  the  firmament. 

I  will  gather,  then,  from  mine  own  remembrance 
of  the  revolutions  which  I  have  witnessed,  and  from 
the  many  occurrences  of  great  import  Avhich  be  em- 
braced within  mine  own  little  span  of  life, — food  for 
much  joyous  hope  and  reflection.  A  new  earth,  as  it 
were,  hath  in  that  time  arisen  from  the  bosom  of  the 
ocean  ;  and  they  who  are  aweary  of  the  changes  of 
this  land,  may  find  another  across  the  Western  main. 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS.  463 

where  full  pleasant  shades  shall  gladden  their  fainting 
spirits,  and  where  they  may  look  upon  Nature  in  all  the 
dewy  freshness  of  her  first  birth. — Already,  too,  hath 
our  own  land  felt  the  benefit  thereof,  in  the  inter- 
change with  those  fair  and  fruitful  countries;  and 
her  sons  have  launched  upon  the  waves  to  combat 
with  the  elements,  and  bring  back  with  every  wind 
and  tide  the  product  of  that  untried  world.  I  trow 
that  it  would  much  content  and  gladden  me,  to  behold 
uie  of  those  mighty  and  unknown  lands  given  unto 
light  by  the  brave  Columbus  of  Genoa,  the  mariners  of 
Portingale,  or  our  own  most  daring  shipmen.  But  why 
do  I  speak  of  a  wider  discovery  of  this  world,  when 
my  feet  are  fast  wending  unto  the  land  of  spirits  ;  and 
ever,  as  I  travel  on,  doth  not  each  new  turning  of  the 
way  bring  it  more  near  and  plain  unto  my  view  ? 
Mine  eyes  are  waxing  dim,  and  ray  trer  '  Hng  hand  is 
even  now  giving  up  it's  hold  of  the  pt  which  hath 
inscribed  this,  and  of  the  staff  which  sustaineth  me. 

Nevertheless,  these  latter  days  of  my  '^ourse  have 
their  own  joys,  being  full  of  che  ful  res-  i^ion  and 
calm   gladness  for  the  present  hour,  ai  humble 

hope,  without  fear,  for  the  last ;  for,  irom  the  spot 
where  living  mine  aged  limbs  are  wont  to  repose 
them,  I  look  forward  v  .h  much  tranquillity  unto  the 
village  Church    -"'^  they  wil^  ^^lortly  be  laid  at 

rest  for  ever.     I  do  sometimes  jk  out  unto  the 

world  with  joyful  hope,  for  methinks  I  behold,  in  tlie 
accession  of  the  young  Edward   unto  the  throne  of 


4^4  THR    LAST   OF    THE    PLANTAGENETS. 

tliese  realms,  the  establishment  of  a  purer  Faith  an 
a  holier  Church  therein,  and  the  star  of  her  proe 
perity  rising  through  the  parting  clouds  of  her  dark 
ness.  Over  this  do  I  rejoice  greatly,  and,  albeii 
I  well  ween  that  I  shall  never  behold  it,  seeing  tlu 
mine  hour  is  near  at  hand, — yet  is  my  spirit  glad  eve 
at  the  distant  prospect,  and  is  already  prepared  t 
depart  in  peace. 


FINIS. 


i.ONnoN  : 
Printed  by  Anne  Maurice,  Fencliurcli  street. 


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